


That Turns our Season to Dust

by gingerink



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Brocedes, Fluff, M/M, Racing, Romance, Slow Burn, baby brocedes, not really canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:43:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 85,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4132800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerink/pseuds/gingerink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lewis and Nico grow up together. They become friends, they fall in love. But in the world of Formula One, their relationship is never a well-oiled engine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1991

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever Formula One fanfic so I am a bit nervous! This is obviously not 100% canon but merely my interpretation of their interesting relationship. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Six year old Lewis and Nico meet for the first time in Monaco and make a lasting impression on the current World Champion.

**Monaco, 1991**  
  
  
The first time they ever meet is a bit of a cliché so to speak. It’s a beautiful, warm day in Monte Carlo, yachts gleaming in the harbour, the pavements paved with gold, the sheer wealth is on display for all to see. However, six year old Lewis Hamilton isn’t interested in the fancy Rolexes or the crystal glasses of champagne been passed around. The smell of burning rubber permeates his nostrils as his little chubby fingers dance over the laminated pass, borrowed from his dad, hanging around his neck. VIP written in bright yellow letters. It makes Lewis feel special.  
He grips his father’s hand tightly, glancing around the paddock area. He can see the slicks of oil on the ground beneath his trainers, it seems to dance in an array of colours. Lewis lets his eyes drift over the names emblazoned above the garages, wondering if one day he would see his own name up there.

  
Somebody calls his father’s name. A man with a large brown moustache approaches the father and son. A boy with white-blonde hair and big blue eyes is grasping one of the man’s hands.  
  
“Anthony, I haven’t seen you in so long.”  
  
“I know,” Lewis’s father lets out a deep laugh. “Last time we saw one another, Nico was just a baby, barely walking. Is this him now?”  
  
He looks at the blonde boy at Keke’s side. The blonde boy, Nico, pipes up. “I’m not a baby anymore.” He speaks with clipped tones, as though he isn’t used to the English language dancing off his tongue.  
  
Anthony laughs once more. “He’s just a chip off the old block.”  
  
“You can say that again. What brings you to Monaco?”  
  
Lewis glances at Nico, who meets his stare but doesn’t smile.  
  
“First time for this one here-“ He pushes Lewis closer to him. “I figured Monaco had to be his first race.”  
  
Keke grins toothily. “This must be Lewis.”  
  
Nico chips in, “Daddy, he’s very short.”  
  
Lewis fights the urge to hide his face in his father’s jacket as Keke scolds his son gently for his remark. Last time Lewis hid, his dad shouted at him for being rude. He stares up at the man and nods.  
  
“Not much of a talker,” Keke remarks, a smile on the corner of his lips.  
  
“He’s sulking a little bit because I haven’t let him go exploring, I know whose garage he will end up in-“ Anthony doesn’t get to finish his sentence as suddenly, a blur of white and red shoots past the group and into the pit in front of them. Lewis’s eyes widen at the distinctive yellow helmet…a helmet he knows well. He painted his toy Formula One car driver with the same shade.  
  
“Senna?” He yells over the continuous drilling, ripping his hand away from his fathers. He runs towards the car. He doesn’t realise that Nico too has pulled away from his father and is following him.  


* * *

 

  
“Lewis!” his father yells, but his voice is a distant cry through the din around them. Lewis doesn’t think of anything else in that moment but seeing his hero in the flesh. He stops at the entrance of the garage, his mouth agape as he watches Senna pull himself out of his McLaren. Senna doesn’t seem to notice the six year old outside, staring in wonder as the Brazilian pulls off his helmet – the bright sunburst yellow colour imprinting itself in Lewis’s memory.  
  
Lewis doesn’t know where the sudden surge of confidence comes from but he feels his feet carrying him towards his hero. He wants to fling himself at Senna and tell him how he’s the best racing driver in the world. However, before he can reach the Champion, he feels cold fingers wind around his arm. Blue eyes stare into brown.  
  
“You can’t just run up to him and hug him. You’ll get kicked out of the paddock!” Nico hisses, suddenly looking older than his six years.  
  
Lewis frowns, “How do you know that?”  
  
“Because I’ve been to the Monaco Grand Prix since I was two and I know all the rules. You can’t just go and jump on the World Number One.” Nico says, a tone of smugness in his voice.  
  
“I don’t care what you think. I have to see Senna-“ Lewis replies, tugging at Nico’s arm.  
  
“You’re going to hurt-“ Nico is cut off abruptly as Lewis snatches his arm out of Nico’s grip only to gasp in pain. Nico’s fingernails have cut into Lewis’s skin, leaving marks.

  
Lewis tries to hold down the tears, he tries to stay strong like his father told him to when the boys at school started calling him names. A fat tear dribbles down his cheek and hits the asphalt. Nico does not move, his eyes focused on the marks left on Lewis’s arm.  
Lewis wants to shout, he wants to yell at the blonde boy, but all he can focus on is the pain in his arm, how Nico stopped him from seeing his hero.  
  
“What is going on here?” A voice calls out behind the two boys.  
  
Lewis stiffens, he knows that voice, he heard it on the television when his dad let him watch the British GP last year. Lewis and Nico whip around to find themselves face to face with the World Champion. Senna.  
  
Lewis can’t look at his hero. He looks down at the asphalt, holding his arms against his chest. He doesn’t want Senna to see the damage Nico caused. “Lewis! Nico!” Their fathers finally come to intervene, their faces pale at the sight of their sons stood in front of the World Champion, eyes downcast. Lewis bites his lip, willing himself not to cry. He’d let his dad down and he’d let Senna down.  
  
“I am so sorry about Lewis.” Anthony says to Senna. “He’s just a really big fan of yours. He’s not stopped talking about you since the last Monaco Grand Prix.”  
  
Senna breaks into a huge smile and lowers himself down to crouch next to the two boys. “Hey boys, I overheard what you were saying. Why are you having an argument over me of all people? Your friendship is worth more that.”  
  
“We’re sorry.” Nico immediately pipes up.  
  
Senna’s smile doesn’t drop. “I accept your apology, Nico is it?”  
  
The blonde nods. Senna glances at Lewis. The boy hasn’t lifted his head since he started talking. Nico looks slightly worried. “Hey, Lewis is it?” Senna says softly.  
  
Lewis nods.  
  
“And here I thought I was your biggest fan-“ Senna begins, a smile quirking at his lips.  
  
“I am your biggest fan!” Lewis exclaims, his big brown eyes finally meeting his heroes.  
  
“That’s what I thought. So how about an autograph, biggest fan in the world?”  
  
Lewis’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”  
  
“I don’t see why not. Have you got anything for me to sign?” Senna asks the young boy.  
  
Lewis glances around; nor he or his father brought any paper or anything to sign, his mum will probably wash the t-shirt he has on now so getting Senna to sign that was pointless. His fingers brush against the lanyard around his neck. He looks down at it, the VIP emblazoned across the shiny plastic. His heart sinks. This is his dad’s lanyard. He doesn’t want to ruin his father’s pass. Senna’s dark eyes are on Lewis, watching him intently. Lewis is about to tell Senna that he has nothing to sign when Nico presses his own lanyard into Lewis’s hand.  
  
“Use mine.” The blonde boy says quietly. Lewis doesn’t say anything.  
  
He nods and passes the lanyard to Senna. The World Champion uncaps a pen and signs the plastic, holding onto it for a few seconds to let the message dry.

  
Senna gives the lanyard back to Lewis, his hand resting gently on Lewis’s shoulder.  
“You should believe in yourself, Lewis. I hope we can meet again soon.”  
Lewis nods and looks down at the lanyard. Over the VIP that Lewis was enthralled with are words that are priceless to the six year old.  
  
  
_Lewis- Race you in the future_  
_Ayrton Senna_  
  
  
Senna stands back up again and readjusts his hat. “Oh and boys? There are no rules here in Monaco. The World Champion gets to make his own rules.”  
  
He winks at the two boys who stare at the Brazilian, mouths agape as he disappears back into the McLaren garage.  


* * *

 

“Thank you for the lanyard.” Lewis says quietly to Nico, his fingers dance over the inscription, daring it almost to disappear as though it never happened.  
  
“It’s okay. I am sorry about hurting you. I just didn’t want you to get kicked out.” Nico replies before he walks back to Keke.  
  
Lewis moves back to his father who smiles at him. Lewis talks about Senna non-stop for the rest of the day. However, there is a moment or two when he stops and thinks about the other lanyard hanging proudly around his neck, decorated with the black scribbling of his hero and Nico Rosberg’s name.


	2. 1994

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time when Lewis and Nico meet, Lewis is wearing overalls and a sunburst yellow helmet. Nico isn't jealous, at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the positive feedback, guys! You are all lovely and inspire me to keep writing, this thing is fast becoming a monster and I'm at 40k overall! Damn Mercedes muse :)  
> A bit of a time jump in this chapter, and I must warn you that this part covers the infamous Senna crash of 1994.

**England, 1994**  
  
  
It’s three years before Lewis and Nico meet again. There are times in which Nico will overhear the English name fall from his father’s lips, it sounds unnatural somehow, in the middle of the flowing guttural German vowels. Nico pretends not to pay attention to his father’s conversations anymore.  
  
  
The rain falls in grey sheets. Nico feels the water soak through his leather jacket, fighting the urge to shout at his father for dragging him to the middle of England. Something about a new business, he said. Nico finds himself wishing he was back in Monaco, the sun lightly brushing against his back, warming the nape of his neck. He shivers ever so slightly, watching the rain bounce down onto the concrete before him. He can see the silver slicks of oil curl and dance their way over the track. The smell of petrol hangs in the air. Nico itches to feel the metal of the steering wheel, cool against his palms. He wants to feel the rain soak into his hair, to hear the sound of wet rubber tear against the hard English asphalt. He wants to show his father what he can do, prove he can be the best.  
  
“I want to race.” Nico says to his father.  
  
Keke laughs, still puffing on his slightly damp cigarette. He flicks ash over the side of the stand.  
  
“You’re not old enough yet, son. There’s time yet.” The way his father says it, it sounds final, almost like the battle is over.  
  
Nico wants to argue. He wants to prove his father wrong. He wants to get behind the wheel.  
  
The checked flag waves. The race begins. Nico is about to sink back into his seat, fold his arms and ignore the entire race. However, just as he is about to take his seat next to his father, he spots a distinctive yellow helmet. It looks familiar. His eyes widen. He thinks back three years ago, to Monaco, to the heat, the World Champion Senna in the McLaren garage, sincere dark eyes gazing back at him. Another set of brown eyes thanking him, the lanyard exchanged between them.  
  
“Lewis?” He doesn’t realise he says the name out loud.  
  
The rain drowns out Nico’s words.

* * *

  
Nico watches open mouthed as the driver with the yellow helmet – _Senna’s helmet_ – _Lewis_ \- weaves his way through his opposition with ease. It pulls his way out around two more karts, quickly gaining the lead. Nico can’t stop watching.  
  
“The yellow one is going to win.” His father remarks, pulling on his cigarette.  
  
The rain continues to fall as the yellow helmeted driver holds off an attack from the kart behind, weaving through the wet track and hitting the apex on each corner. Nico hears the weight of cheers behind him. He closes his eyes. He wants nothing more to be on the track before him, challenging Lewis every step of the way. He watches the rest of the race in awe, not taking his eyes off the race leader.  
  
The yellow helmet is a blur, albeit an unmistakable one as it crosses the line first. The driver lifts his hand up in victory.  
  
He flashes a peace sign at the cheering crowd. Nico smiles at the gesture.  
  
“Come on Nico, we don’t need to see the winner. I need to get back and have a meeting with-“  
  
“I want to see who won.” Nico says. He sounds almost childish; something he knows will not help him persuade his father he is ready to race. His father’s mouth twitches, reading his response.  
  
“Keke!”  
  
Nico lets out a sigh of relief. He could see that his father was angry. A man with dark skin bounds up. Nico recalls seeing him before but he isn’t sure where.  
  
“Anthony.” His father’s voice is warm.  
  
Anthony. Lewis’s dad. Nico’s memories stir once more. Anthony has a few more lines around his eyes and a little more stomach than before but he is the same man who scolded Lewis three years ago in Monaco.  
  
“Did you see my boy race?” Anthony asks.  
  
Nico glances up at his father. Keke hides his surprise well, a small quirk of his thick eyebrow is the only indication that he was not aware of the young Hamilton’s presence in the race.  
  
“Lewis raced today?”  
  
“He didn’t just race, Keke. He won. He’s getting quite the little driver. We got him his own kart just after Monaco and a year ago, he was finally able to come here and race for real. The instructors are really impressed with him.” Anthony’s voice swells with pride.  
  
“He has been racing a year. You started him karting quite young, do you not Anthony?” Keke replies, his voice playful.  
  
“I just want him to get a good start in life and he really loves doing it…here he comes now.” Anthony says, a large grin appears on his face as his son walks towards the group.  
Lewis has changed ever so slightly, he looks older than nine somehow. Nico isn’t sure if it is the white overalls or the yellow helmet Lewis is carrying underneath his arm. He has grown an inch or two. His dark hair is less wild, flattened by the rain and by his helmet. He is grinning from ear to ear.  
  
“Dad, I won. I actually won!”  
  
“You did great, son. I am so proud of you. Third title of the year.”  
  
“I can’t believe I actually…sorry, wait a minute, I remember you, Mr Rosberg right?” Lewis says, a touch more confidence in his voice.  
  
He holds out his hand for Keke to shake.  
  
“Well done, lad. I wasn’t expecting you to be out there racing, let alone winning the damn thing.” Keke remarks, shaking Lewis’s hand.  
  
A slight blush touched Lewis’s cheeks at the comment. He let his eyes finally fall on Nico.  
  
“Hey, Nico. Long time no see.” He says playfully, a smirk on the corner of his lips.  
  
“You race well. It was interesting to watch. You’re still short.” Nico responds. He glances back down at the helmet, the bright yellow curves standing out against Lewis’s white clothed hip.  
  
“I know, you're still obvious. Oh, and thank you, Nico. It means a lot.” Lewis says and he sounds like he means it.

* * *

  
  
They’re at the pub just down the street. Their fathers are both huddled around a table talking excitedly, pints in their hands. The build-up to the San Marino Grand Prix is on the background.  
  
“They sure have a lot to talk about.” Lewis says, taking a sip of his Diet Coke.  
  
Nico shrugs. “I’ve never seen Dad so talkative, the only person he is that talkative to is Mika.”  
  
“Your dad knows everyone doesn’t he?” Lewis’s brown eyes are wide.  
  
“Pretty much,” Nico shrugs.  
  
Lewis takes another drink. “You still living in Monaco?”  
  
“Of course. I miss it, we just spent two weeks in Japan, but we will be travelling back to Monaco for the next race. It’s so cold here.”  
  
Lewis feels a surge of jealousy. He wishes he could go back to Monaco, to see Senna race once more.  
  
“So when did you start racing?” Nico changes the subject.  
  
Lewis takes his eyes off the television screen behind the bar. “A year ago, Dad took me for my eighth birthday.”  
  
Nico nods. Lewis leans back in his chair, he’s still in his race overalls. “So when are you going to start racing?”  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything. Lewis continues, “Man, I saw the way you looked at me after I came to see my dad. You want to race.”  
  
“I do. My father says I am too young.” Nico replies, his voice quiet. He’s angry. He’s angry that Lewis is already racing – and winning. He’s angry that his father doesn’t think he’s ready.  
  
“Well, when your old man realises that you are ready – I’ll be waiting.” Lewis smirks and takes another drink. His dark eyes glance up to the television – Senna is warming up his tyres. Lewis smiles. Nico swirls the ice in his glass with his straw and tries not to smile back.  
  


The calm does not last as on the seventh lap, after the restart, Senna’s car slams into Tamburello corner. The entire pub goes silent. Nico glances over at Lewis. Lewis doesn’t say anything. He stands up, his chair hitting the floor with a large crack. Lewis runs out of the pub. Nico follows, worry glosses along his face as he thinks about the first time they both met and how Nico chased after Lewis that time.  
  
Lewis is crouched outside the pub, his back is pressed against the brick wall. His head is bowed and his arms are wrapped around his knees. Nico approaches him carefully. “Lewis?” He asks gently, noticing that the young kart driver is shaking from head to toe. Lewis pushes his head into the crook of his arms, shielding his face from view.  
  
“Lewis-“ Nico begins, his voice soft.  
  
Lewis stiffens at the sound. “Nico, can you just-“ His voice breaks.  
  
Nico slides down the wall and inches carefully towards the Brit. A moment of silence passes between the two boys. Lewis starts to shake more vigorously, his shoulders heave up and down. Big, heavy, wet, sobs tear through the air. Nico bites his lip, the sound cuts through him and makes him feel horrible. He wants to hug Lewis, like his mum does when he’s upset.  
  
Lewis seems to cry for ages. Nico lets him, not moving from his side. He stiffens slightly when Lewis leans into him, almost asking for comfort from the German. Nico feels tears sink into his t-shirt as Lewis buries his face into the soft material.  


* * *

  
  
“I’m sorry.” Lewis says, not moving from the crook of Nico’s shoulder. He sounds defeated and in pain.  
  
“For what?” Nico asks, confused as to why the Brit is apologising.  
  
“Crying on you and looking like a big baby. I’m older than you. I’m not supposed to cry.” Lewis says thickly, pulling away from the blonde. His eyes are red and still glassy.  
“You’re not a big baby…my dad said it’s okay to cry whatever your age. Besides, he’s probably fine.” Nico’s reply is gentle.  
  
“I guess…I just…he’s my hero you know? Senna can do anything. I want to be just like him when I’m older. I remember when I saw him win at Monaco. That was so great.”  
  
“When we met for the first time?” Lewis nods, his lip caught between his teeth. One of his front teeth is missing. He notices Nico staring.  
  
“Knocked it out last week, crashed into the barrier and it just popped straight out into my helmet. Didn’t even realise until I got back and there was blood all over my overalls. Mum went mental.”  
  
Nico smiles. “Don’t tell my dad that story. He won’t let me go anywhere near a kart.”  
  
Lewis shrugs. “My mum keeps fighting with my dad about letting me race. But my dad said as long as I work hard at school, he’ll let me race.”  
  
“I wish I could race.”  
  
“Nico, you’ll be fine, your dad will cave eventually, he’ll want you to follow in the family business.” Nico nods, there’s something about the way Lewis says it that makes it sound realistic, like it will come true.  
  
And later on, when their fathers have decided they have had enough to drink, the two boys say goodbye to one another. Lewis flings himself at Nico, his arms are thrown haphazardly around the blonde boy’s torso. Nico hugs Lewis back, squeezing him gently as they both giggle.  
“Thank you for everything today.” Lewis whispers, smiling. Nico smiles back.

* * *

  
  
“Breaking news, Formula 1 driver and three time world champion, Ayrton Senna has died after crashing in the San Marino Grand Prix, earlier this afternoon. Here’s Jonathan with the latest…”  
  
Senna isn’t okay.  
  
Lewis feels numb. He’s twisting the lanyard, the ink still as fresh as the day Senna signed it, in his hunting ground; hot, sweaty Monaco. Lewis still remembers every detail of that day, the smell of hot rubber, the oil slicks on the asphalt, Nico’s blue eyes. Lewis lets his fingers drift over the shiny surface of the lanyard and feels tears prick the corners of his eyes. He’d never see his hero race again and he’d never be allowed the chance that Senna may see him race.  
  
The phone rings. Anthony Hamilton is sprawled on the couch, fast asleep. The television is blaring; Arsenal are playing Tottenham. His father’s snores drown out the din of the crowd at Highbury.  
  
Lewis answers it before it can wake his father. “Hello?” He asks.  
  
“Lewis?” The voice is tinny, but the unmistakable German accent tells him the identity of the caller.  
  
“Nico?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s me. How are you doing? I just saw the news. I can’t believe it.” Lewis feels like there’s something stuck in his throat.  
  
“I know…I…I don’t know how I feel. I’m upset I guess. If I ever got to Formula 1, I wanted Senna to see me.”  
  
“I remember what he wrote on your lanyard.” Nico says gently.  
  
“ _Your_ lanyard.” Lewis corrects him.  “It’s got your name on it and everything.”  
  
“He was your hero.” Lewis can almost hear the shrug of shoulders through the phone. “It seemed right to let him sign it for you. Just remember that I want the favour returning when you meet Niki Lauda.”  
  
Lewis felt a chuckle bubble up. “You’ve never met Niki Lauda? But your dad is super famous!”  
  
“My dad doesn’t let me run up and talk to anyone. I mean, the time we met Senna was the first and only time I met him…besides, my dad races in the DTM now. We still go to the Formula One races but we don’t usually go down to the paddocks anymore. If we do, we meet Mika or JJ.”  
  
“That’s a shame. I would go and meet everyone.” Lewis exclaims.  
  
“I know you would.” Nico replies. “You can always come to Monaco and visit me. Prost lives just down the road from us.”  
  
Lewis laughs. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’d want to punch him in the face.”  
  
They talk for two hours before Lewis has to go because his father is taking him home to his mum. Keke goes ballistic the next day when he sees the phone bill for the hotel room but Nico doesn’t care, he thinks about Lewis’s smile, the missing tooth, and suddenly, it’s all worth it.


	3. 1996

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis and Nico meet at the British Grand Prix. Lewis meets a man who will come to define his very career.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short chapter this one, but I am currently up to 57,000 words on this thing. It's turning into a beast.  
> Apologies for the lack of cute moments in this chapter, this is more plot driven.  
> Hope you enjoy!

**England, 1996**  
  
  
It’s two years before they see one another again. However, unlike the previous time, the two boys make an effort to stay in contact with one another. Nico sends Lewis postcards from all four corners of the world. He tells him about his father finally agreeing that he can begin karting. Lewis is the first person to know.   
Lewis in return, sends letters to Nico’s address in Monaco, telling the German about his first Cadet championship. They call a handful of times, neither boy wanting to get in trouble for the bill that will inevitably follow. A phone call between London and Monaco is expensive.  
  
  
It’s a beautiful Sunday morning. The sun is just brushing the asphalt at Silverstone. Lewis bites his lip as he pulls on his t-shirt, wincing in pain at the sunburn he got yesterday whilst he was watching qualifying.  
He didn’t really want to go to the race, he hasn’t been to a race for over a year. His time is taken up by karting at weekends and his mum preparing him for secondary school by giving him extra summer work to do. He does it to make them happy, knowing where he wants his future to lie; not with books, but with oil and tyres.  
He hasn’t received any mail from Nico for over two months. He ignores the sudden twisting sensation in his belly.  
  
His father is hanging around somewhere, Lewis thinks he’s probably in the bar with a few of the other regulars who end up at the British Grand Prix every year. Lewis is out in the paddock, the sun hitting his back. He feels out of place, everyone else is either in overalls or dressed in their smart trousers and shirts. He pulled on his old McLaren t-shirt and his ratty jeans that morning and his dad didn’t say anything. He knows mum wouldn’t let him leave the house in such worn out clothes, race or no race.  
Lewis closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets the pre-race build up wash over him.   
  
It’s reasonably quiet for now, there are mechanics scattered in and around the various garages. A few of the drivers are milling around in the background, cigarettes poised in their mouths, sunglasses glinting in the sunlight. He spots Barrichello and Verstappen over by the chain link fence laughing.   
Lewis fiddles with his autograph book. His mum bought it for him last year. He thinks about Senna. He wonders if the Brazilian would still be racing if he were alive. He dawdles outside the McLaren garage, daring to look inside at the two iconic red and white cars inside, gleaming. The smell of fuel hangs in the air. Lewis smiles. He’s home.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Lewis!” A familiar German voice rings out through the paddock.  
  
Lewis turns around, his face full of disbelief. He can’t be here, his father never comes to the British Grand Prix, he’s too busy in Monaco or so Nico said in his last letter.  
  
“Nico.” He says, unwilling to believe the blonde boy is next to him. He accepts the hug that Nico gives him. Nico seems to have grown a few inches and now is even taller than he was before. His hair is longer than it was before, brushing his shoulders. He’s wearing a dark blue shirt and black trousers. Lewis feels scruffy all of a sudden. He looks down at his old Nikes and bites his lip.  
  
“How are you doing?”  
  
“I’m brilliant, close to winning my first karting championship. That’s why I haven’t had a chance to write you. I’ve been busy with schoolwork and all the karting practise takes up my free time-“  
  
“That’s great, man.” Lewis replies.  
  
“So how have you been shortie?” Nico asks, his head cocks to the right slightly.  
  
“Okay…been arguing with my mum a lot. I want to move in with my dad. Mum’s getting married again.”  
  
Concern brushes across Nico’s face. “I’m sorry to hear that.”  
  
Lewis waves off the concern. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal…the karting takes my mind off it.”  
  
“How many championships have you won now?”  
  
“Just the three. Won the British Championship last month. I told you in my letter.” Lewis says, smiling.  
  
Nico laughs, noticing Lewis’s adult tooth is starting to come through but it has left a small gap in between Lewis’s two front teeth.  


* * *

  
  
  
Nico and Lewis end up hanging around the McLaren garage. Mika is there, standing at the side of his car, helmet in his hands. Nico walks up to him and immediately begins a rapid fire conversation in Finnish. Lewis looks on, feeling a small curl of jealousy.   
Nico looks at home talking to Mika. He eludes confidence as he stands, arms folded, deep in conservation. Lewis can’t help but think about all the times Nico has done this before. Keke travels the world and he takes Nico everywhere, he went to every single Grand Prix last year. Lewis was lucky if he managed to get to two races a year – his dad always made sure they attended the British Grand Prix and Lewis knew he was saving up to take him either back to Monaco or to the Italy Grand Prix – Nico said that was the _second best race_ after Monaco.  
Lewis is pulled out of his thoughts as a warm hand grabs his own. Nico has paused in his conversation with Mika and is now leading Lewis into the McLaren garage. Lewis bites his lip, feeling the sweat on the back of his neck.  
  
“Mika, this is Lewis Hamilton, he’s my best friend.”  
  
Mika gives him a warm smile and holds out his hand for Lewis to shake.  
  
“Hi Lewis, I guess I don’t need to tell you my name.” He says, eyeing Lewis’s faded McLaren t-shirt. He glances at the autograph book Lewis is still clutching.  
  
“Do you want an autograph?”  
  
Lewis nods and hands over his book.  
  
  
Nico continues to talk to Mika. Lewis stands by the blonde boy’s side, thoughts whizzing through his head. He doesn’t understand why he lacked confidence when he got into the paddock at races. When he is karting, he eludes confidence and arrogance, to an extent. He goes to pieces in front of racing drivers. Lewis worries his lips between his teeth, deep in thought. Then he spots Ron Dennis in the back of the garage and he has an idea.  
He marches off towards the McLaren boss, autograph book poised, his shoulders set. He thinks about the way Nico walked over to Mika and tries to do the same.  
Nico notices Lewis isn’t by his side and ends his conversation with Mika.  
  
“Lewis?” He asks, spinning around just in time to see the Brit swagger up to Ron Dennis, a determined look on his face. Nico’s eyes widen as he watches his friend.  


* * *

  
  
Lewis takes a deep breath. Ron Dennis is standing in front of him, earphones in his hand, looking very bored.  
  
“Excuse me, Mr Dennis?” Lewis says, his eyes never leaving the bosses.  
  
“Yes, lad, what can I do for you?” Ron’s icy blue eyes lock on him.  
  
Lewis fights the urge to look away but he thinks of Nico and his confidence. “Hi, I’m Lewis Hamilton. I just won the British Championship and one day I want to be racing your cars.” He says, his voice strong and clear.  
  
Ron raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got some confidence, lad, I’ll give you that…would you take an autograph for now son?”  
  
Lewis holds out his book, ignoring the fact that his fingers are shaking slightly.  
  
“Can you also put down your number and address please?” Ron doesn’t seem to notice as he pulls out a pen from behind his ear and signs Lewis’s book. He hands it back to the ten year old and smiles. “Hope I see you later, kid.”  
  
Lewis looks down at his autograph book.  
  
_Phone me in nine years, we’ll sort something out then_  
_RD_  
  
Lewis feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He just met Ron Dennis and basically asked him for a deal.  
  
  
Nico looks at the message, his eyes wide. “So you just asked him if you could race his cars?”  
  
“Pretty much.” Lewis says, fighting the urge to laugh. “I just saw how confident you were when you went to talk to Mika and I wanted to do the same. I figured the boss was a good place to test it out.”  
  
“You are mental, Lewis.” Nico replies.  
  
Lewis pushes him off the side of the couch, Nico squeals and grabs hold of Lewis’s t-shirt dragging him down with him. Lewis laughs, forcing his fingers into Nico’s ribs to tickle him. They both laugh.


	4. 1997

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis and Nico finally race against one another. After a few heated words at the race, the boys make a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It's Silverstone weekend!  
> Another chapter for you guys to read! Just the one thing; I haven't driven a go-kart for a good number of years so apologies if the race and the lingo isn't exactly how it's supposed to be.

**Germany, 1997**  
  
  
Germany is warm, Lewis thinks as he scratches at the nape of his neck, his hair is already sticking to the slightly damp skin, there’s a ring of sweat under the rim of his cap too. He grimaces as he picks his way through the milling crowd at the karting circuit. It’s the first time he’s driven outside of England. Lewis takes a swig out of his water bottle and shucks out of his too-big blue overalls, pushing them down to bunch around his waist.  
Everyone around him seems to speak German, the low guttural language hovers over the entire racetrack, a smell of petrol hangs in the air. He checks his watch, he wants to watch the first race before his father calls him back to go over certain things on the kart ready for his race.  
Lewis feels strange, tiredness creeping through his bones. He leans over the side of the railings, watching the karts line up in their positions. The first kart catches his eye – _number 6_ – he can see the driver’s helmet, yellow and white with a band of red, black and gold – _German colours_ , around the bottom. Nico’s German, Lewis thinks.   
It’s baking hot, the sun is a white ball burning in the sky. The twelve year old feels the sweat pouring down the back of his t-shirt and groans softly. He’s going to have to drive in this later.  
  
  
The flag waves the drivers off. The first kart, the one with the German helmet flies around the first corner with ease. The rest of the drivers slot in behind them, their karts and helmets in an array of colours. Lewis watches carefully as they pick their way around the track, he smiles when the first kart drives past him once more. The smile turns into a smirk as he notices the driver over-steers on the first corner but he manages to catch it before he ends up spinning.  
  
“Rookie mistake, number six.” Lewis catches himself saying under his breath.  
  
He continues watching up until the last lap when number six crosses the line and starts fist-pumping in victory. Lewis walks off to go and get a cup of tea before his race begins.  
He doesn’t see Keke Rosberg run up to the winning driver, wrapping his arms around and cheering loudly. He’s just pouring the boiling water over the teabag in the kitchen of the motorhome his dad has rented, when the winning driver, Nico Rosberg, pulls off his helmet and smiles as he glances up to the fence where he was sure he saw Lewis Hamilton standing at the beginning of the race. His face drops when he realises there’s nobody there.

* * *

  
  
Lewis is strapped into his kart. He pats the metalwork at his side, glosses his hand over the 44.  
  
“It’s hammer time.” He whispers as he glances around at his surroundings.  
  
The different coloured helmets, from cherry apple red, neon green to dark blue, dance in his vision. Lewis leans back in his seat, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel of his kart. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous but there’s something in the back of his mind that he can’t simply brush off. Anthony is standing off at the side, hat and sunglasses on, he’s beaming.  
  
Lewis grits his teeth as he looks back at the lights. They glow red for a second before they turn green. Lewis puts his foot down on the pedal and accelerates. He makes a great start, ahead of two drivers, but another kart manages to overtake him before they hit the first corner. Lewis frowns, he can feel the sweat drip down his forehead as he guides the kart through the first corner, smoothly, hitting the desired apex first time. He grins at that, thinking about the way the previous driver – number six, German helmet, had over-steered and put a few extra seconds on his time. There was no room for mistakes. Lewis glares at the kart in front of him and down at his speedometer. He estimates he’s approximately three seconds behind him. He glances behind him, grinning.  
  
  
Nico watches the race unfold before him, hopping from one foot to another. He desperately needs to take a shower and get some ice water before the next heat. He glances down at the grid, a bored expression on his face. He knew most of the drivers on the tarmac, either by name or by their face. His father told him not to make friends – after all, every single person out on the track was fighting for the same victory. Nico felt a tug of loneliness as he surveyed the area, watching out for a familiar face, tatty t-shirt and jeans. He was sure he had seen Lewis.  
  
Looking back over the grid, he notices a kart – number 44 – the helmet is sunburst yellow. Nico frowns. He’s sure he’s never seen that kart before, nor that driver. The German shakes his head, it can’t be Lewis. He would have said something to him if he were coming to Germany to race. There’s plenty of other drivers with yellow helmets, he thinks as he jogs away to his father’s motorhome to stock up on some ice.  


* * *

  
  
  
Lewis decides the best place to overtake would be on the first corner of the track as there’s a flat straight before it to allow him to build speed. He keeps pressing at the race leader, enough that his wheels are almost within ghosting distance of the kart’s number plate. They move towards the final turn of the race, Lewis squeezes his accelerator pedal ever so slightly, as he whips around the corner. He’s gaining time back. He slides his kart over to the left, ready to overtake when they both hit the corner. He pulls forward, the front of his kart is neck to neck with the other.   
Lewis grins as they both speed towards the corner, he pulls in towards the other kart, braking late and just inching in front of the leader on the apex of the track. He whoops for a second before he again maintains control and attention on the task at hand. He’s still got another lap and he needs to make sure he drives perfectly to stop the kart behind overtaking him.  
  
  
He does drive perfectly on the final lap, able to keep the kart behind and increase the time between them. He stops at the finish line and sits in his kart for a moment before he raises a fist to the sky, ecstatic. He’s through to the final.   
Nico is in his father’s motorhome, air conditioning firmly on, a bottle of ice water in his hands. Lewis on the other hand, accepts his father’s congratulations, pulls off his helmet and they both end up back at the motorhome, eating Pot Noodles. Lewis sits on the step, fork twirling around beef flavoured noodles, his feet resting in the dirt of the track.  


* * *

  
  
  
The next day is even hotter, if that’s possible. Lewis is walking around the track, he’s already wearing his race overalls, pushed down to his waist and an old Ferrari t-shirt, one of his dad’s old ones. It’s early in the morning, Lewis isn’t sure how early as he left his watch back at the motorhome but the sun has already risen, its golden fingers brushing over the track. Lewis glances up at the sky, there’s not a single cloud in it. He thinks about his mum back in England, grey skies and the slight breeze beating against his overalls as he turns into corners, his foot on the brake pedal.  
  
He needs to have some breakfast, his dad always buys him a bacon sandwich on race day; it has become one of the Hamilton racing family traditions. None of the vans are open, it’s quiet on the track. Lewis crouches down, letting his palm dance over the concrete track. He hopes he can win today. His dad brought him here for a taste of different competition. Lewis knows how much money his dad has spent bringing him to Europe, he overheard the arguments; his dad shouting down the phone at his mum, swearing at her and calling her every name under the sun.  
He sighs heavily, knowing how much his family has sacrificed for him. He had recently moved in with his father but he couldn’t forget the look of betrayal on his mum’s face. He tried to reassure her it was for the good of his racing and he promised that he would continue to work hard at school.  
Lewis stands up and walks away from the track, on the hunt for breakfast.  
  
  
  
Across the other end of the park, Nico is already awake. He sleeps very poorly on race days, nerves gnaw at his insides. The light rays of the sun had brushed against his face and he found himself emerging from his bed. He sits on the steps of the motorhome, wearing only a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt, toothbrush in hand. The sun is already beginning to warm his toes and his back. He brushes his teeth and thinks about the day ahead, he thinks about the sunburst yellow helmet, he thinks about the boy leaning over the railings at the beginning of his race, he thinks about the smile on his father’s face when he won.  
He spits the toothbrush foam out onto the grass at the side and drinks from his water bottle.  
  
“Nico!” His father calls from inside their temporary home.  
  
“Ich komme, vater.” Nico says, the German feels strange on his tongue as he makes his way back in.

* * *

  
Lewis wishes that he hadn’t eaten the bacon sandwich. He’s in his kart, doing a few practise laps. The sandwich seems to sink in the bottom of his stomach, like a rock. He strokes the brake pedal with his foot a touch as he turned into one of the corners. The sun is climbing in the sky. The track is starting to feel a little busier, there are more people milling around.  
The food vans are open and there are several people sitting on the wooden tables, eating sandwiches and breakfast hotdogs. The smell of fried food hangs in the air. Lewis presses down on the accelerator as he powers through the last corner onto the home stretch. His father is standing nearby, keeping a watchful eye out just in case there are any problems with the kart. But she’s fine, she purrs gently as Lewis eases her around the track for another lap.  
  
  
Nico is standing by the railings, sipping on some lemon water. He had oatmeal for breakfast. He watches as a lone kart flies around the track – number 44 – braking hard, fast and tight around the corners. Nico forces all thoughts out of his mind as he turns on his heel, he needs to change into his racing gear and test out his kart, ready for the race.  


* * *

  
  
The race itself occurs at the hottest part of the day. Lewis pulls at the collar of his overalls and glances at his watch. The race will start in ten minutes. Sweat is already clinging to his hair, he can feel the sweat soaking into the lining of his helmet. He swigs from his bottle, double-checks all the mechanisms of the kart. The nausea hasn’t subsided – the grease seems to sit in his stomach but he puts the feeling down to nerves. He pulls on his racing gloves and takes a deep breath.   
Nico is equally nervous. He feels like there’s something dancing in his stomach. He glances over to where his dad is standing on the grassy knoll, his face painted with pride. His gaze falls upon the kart in front, it’s number 44, sunburst yellow helmet. Nico snaps down his visor and grips the steering wheel of his kart.  
  
  
The lights turn green. Lewis presses the acceleration pedal down as his kart roars into life, shooting over the concrete with ease. He lets himself smile for a second as he speeds towards the first corner. Lewis brakes hard and fast into the first corner. He overcooks it slightly, the wheels of his kart rolling off onto the grass at the side. He manages to readjust it and pulls into the next corner with no problems. Lewis takes a moment to glance behind him. A big red number six fills his view. It’s the German guy and he’s right on Lewis’s trail, using the drag reduction to push his kart closer to Lewis’s.  
  
Lewis worries his lip between his teeth. This guy is good, he thinks, but I’m better. He pushes forward heavily into the next corner, braking late. It gives him a little breathing space. The driver behind him doesn’t want to take chances in the same way he does.  
Nico frowns heavily as the yellow helmeted driver gets the jump on him going into the first corner. He guides the kart through the first corner, smirking as the kart in front overcooks the first corner, allowing Nico to gain a second on him. Nico stays behind him, inching his kart closer to the other. He smirks as the yellow helmet glances behind him to check his position and touches his accelerator pedal a fraction.   
However, on the next corner, yellow helmet brakes late, taking more speed into the corner. Nico bites his lip as he steers his kart through the corner behind the leader, trying to claw back the time he has gained. Lewis smiles for a fraction of a second before he continues to focus on his race. He has another twenty nine laps to go. You can do this, Lewis thinks. You can race here, you got this.  
  
  
Lap twenty eight, Lewis is still holding off the attacks from the kart behind. He thinks he’s driven a pretty good race so far. He is keeping the pace fairly fast, and he’s still in the driver’s seat. He leans back in his seat as he shoots off towards the first corner once more. However, out of nowhere, a black kart – number bloody six – appears at the side of him. Lewis grits his teeth as he brakes into the next corner, hoping to hit just the right angle to keep out the rival kart.  
  
  
Nico manages to pull some extra speed from somewhere, easing off on the brakes as he flies forward towards the leading kart. Nico smirks as he drives off to the left, pulling his kart up to challenge the other. Side by side, he chances a glance over at the other driver. He’s focused on the road. Nico turns away from the sunburst yellow helmet and focuses on the next bend. Nico judges the corner just perfectly, he brakes late, his kart dips off into the left. He manages to slip in front of the white kart, however, not without clipping the front wing of the kart. He accelerates, pulling away from the other kart. He’s probably picked some damage to his back wing, but he just wants to finish the race. He whizzes around the next corner, hitting the apex easily. Racing along the long straight, he overhears the baying of the crowd, he can’t spot faces but he wonders where his dad is standing, if Lewis is there and if he is, if he’s cheering.  
  
  
Lewis frowns. The black kart had not only managed to pull an excellent overtaking manoeuvre on the corner, but it now seems to be accelerating away from him. Lewis knows his front wing is damaged but the kart feels okay, he knows he can finish this race. He presses down on the accelerator, racing towards the kart in front. He has to overtake him on the corner once more, he builds up speed quickly down the smooth section of the track. Lewis licks his lips as he pushes the kart to bank slightly to the left, using the slipstream to build momentum. He cuts inside, moving his kart so he is driving alongside his rival.  
Lewis brakes early this time, he feels that the driver of the black kart has realised that he brakes late to really hit the correct pathway into the corner. He manages to hit the inside of the corner and slips away from the black kart, pushing it off onto the grass ever so slightly. Lewis eases off on the brakes as he moves away from the corner, however, the black kart is right behind him. He manages to hold him off for the rest of the race.   
Lewis breathes a sigh of relief as he crosses the line. He whoops in joy as he drives past the crowd, he can’t place any faces. He thinks about the driver in the black kart as he whizzes around the corner.

* * *

  
  
Lewis parks up on the tarmac. He pulls himself out of his seat and pumps his fist a few times, letting out a cry of joy. He runs over to his father who is by the side of the track, jumping into his arms. His father lifts him up off the floor with ease.  
  
“I did it, Dad. I won!” Lewis yells, voice muffled by his helmet.  
  
Anthony Hamilton beams with pride. His whole face is lit up as he lowers Lewis to the ground and taps gently on his helmet.  
  
“I knew you could do it, son. You’ll be in Formula One someday. That was a brilliant drive. I’m so proud of you, Lewis.”  
  
Lewis nods, he can’t keep the smile off his face.  
  
“Now go and talk to some of the other drivers. The one in the black kart was brilliant. Show off your good sportsmanship.” His father replies, laughing.  
  
“Yeah…even though he ruined the front wing of my kart.” Lewis says, frowning, as he jogs back to the grid in front of him. Nico pulls himself out of his kart. He feels angry and upset, he didn’t even make a mistake on the corner where the white kart overtook him. There’s a twist of something in his chest and he’s not sure what it is. He spots the yellow helmet dash off into the crowd. He walks over to Keke. His father’s face is proud, but underneath, Nico spots the slight thread of disappointment that he didn’t win the race.  
  
“Well done son.” Keke says, his hand brushing against Nico’s shoulder. Nico takes a deep breath and bites his lip.  
  
Keke continues talking, complaining about the damage inflicted on the back of his kart. Nico doesn’t say anything, he moves away from his father quickly, ignoring the sting at the back of his eyes.  
  
The winner of the race approaches Nico, yellow helmet still jammed on his head.  
  
“Hey, man. Nice race.” The voice is muffled by the helmet, yet it sounds familiar.  
  
"Thanks, you raced brilliantly. Even though you ruined my kart.”  
  
“I could say the same about your reckless driving.” Nico hears the smirk in the voice. The driver sounds so cocksure, so certain of his own abilities. Nico would love to take him down a peg or two. He craves the next race. There’s a moment of silence. Nico feels the sweat soaking into his overalls and the ache of his fingers due to the exertion he placed on his gear pedal. He grits his teeth, his hands curl into fists.  
  
“Arschloch. My driving is fine.” He mutters.  
  
The yellow helmet whips up. Nico wants to scream. He wants to see the face of the boy who beat him, who pulled that ridiculous overtaking manoeuvre on the corner.  
“What did you just call me?” Yellow helmet snaps, his accent sounds foreign, Nico thinks, yet it sounds like home to him.  
  
“You heard what I said.” Nico fires back, there’s something about this guy that riles him up.  
  
“Listen, man, if you’ve got something to say, say it to my face.” The yellow helmeted driver yells.  
  
“I would if I could see your face!” Nico states defiantly.  
  
The winner of the race is silent. He reaches up and pulls off his yellow helmet. Dark skin, wild dark hair standing out in all directions, sharp brown eyes. Nico stares into the face of his childhood friend and feels his stomach twist, a thread of hurt and nausea pushes through him. Lewis looks older, still shorter than Nico of course, but he eludes a certain degree of maturity. His dark brown eyes bore into Nico’s helmet, willing him to speak once more.  
Nico doesn’t say a word, he pulls off his helmet, watching as Lewis’s glare softens into a look of shock, surprise and a touch of affection.  
  
“Nico?” Lewis breaks the silence, he was always the one who couldn’t stand to be quiet for so long, his voice sounds broken and dry, as though he is having trouble getting the words out.  
  
“Lewis.” Nico says, trying to find the right words. “I can’t believe it…what are you doing here?”  
  
“Racing, you idiot.” Lewis’s grave look morphs immediately into a grin.  
  
Nico looks at the tiny gap between Lewis’s two front teeth and fights back a smile of his own.  


* * *

  
  
  
“I am going to beat you next time.” Nico says, his voice carrying a thread of certainty.  
  
He and Lewis are sat on the grassy knoll by the side of the racetrack. The races are over. The sun hangs low in the sky, disappearing over the horizon. Wisps of grey cloud stroke their way through the pink and orange sky. Lewis glances up at its beauty, admiring it fully.  
  
He doesn’t reply to Nico’s statement, he just laughs gently. “I can’t believe I was racing against you today, man. I thought it was never going to happen.”  
  
“It feels strange. Where the hell did you learn to brake into such tight corners like that?” Nico looks at the Brit, his head props up his elbow.  
  
Lewis looks strange in the dimming light, he doesn’t look real to Nico. His hair shines like black-gold in the last few vestiges of sunlight, his ever present cap tossed somewhere into the grass. He’s still wearing his race overalls, they’re big, blue and baggy, rolled down to his waist. Nico laughs at his Ferrari shirt.  
  
“I’ll show you how I beat you.” Lewis announces and he shoves him away, climbing on top of the German and pinning him to the ground with his thighs. He nips Nico’s hipbones with his fingers, grinning at how easy it is to tickle him. Nico squirms under Lewis’s touch, laughing, as he hooks his foot around Lewis’s arm. He surges forward, rolling over to the side and pinning Lewis with his other foot. He smiles in victory as Lewis giggles and tries to wriggle out of his tight grip.  
  
“What were you saying about showing me?” Nico says, sweetly, grinning down at the Brit.  
  
“I don’t know, how easy it is to reverse your holds when I’m a purple belt in karate.” Lewis replies as he surges upwards and breaks Nico’s hold, twisting him onto the side and holding the German in place.  
  
Nico glances up at Lewis. “You do karate too?”  
  
“Started karate when I was five. Being black and short doesn’t earn you a lot of friends. Dad made me learn to protect myself from the bullies.”  
  
Nico’s eyes don’t leave the Brit. Lewis looks away, his liquid brown eyes gaze over the horizon, the sun has completely disappeared.  
  
“I’m your friend, though.” Nico says quietly. His pale hand finds Lewis’s. Lewis glances down at their entwined hands and smiles gently.  
  
“Thanks, Nico. Imagine if we get into Formula One, we could be team-mates.” Lewis whispers in the night. “That could be so cool. Promise you’ll be my teammate.”  
  
“I promise, Lewis. And you mean when we’re in Formula One.” Nico replies, voice confident.  
  
Lewis doesn’t say anything. They stretch out in the grass, glancing over the track, enjoying the silence. Their hands stay entangled, white fingers wrapped around caramel coloured ones.


	5. 1999 (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico and Lewis spend their summers together racing. But their fathers have other ideas; Lewis and Nico finally get hit the realisation of how different their lives are and what do they do? They fight it, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I have not stopped writing all week! Thank you for all the kind messages about this fic, I really appreciate them.  
> A few notes on this chapter; it was 8k so I split it up into two parts. The next part is coming soon. And the other is that I've made Keke and Anthony a little mean in this chapter but it was needed!  
> Enjoy1 :)

**Italy, 1999**  
  
  
Nico and Lewis compete in – and win several races between them in the two years after their first race against one another. They race a handful of times in 1998. Lewis crosses the finish line in first place and immediately runs over to Nico and pulls him into a hug, the two of them bouncing up and down on their heels. Nico catches a few glances of the sunburst yellow helmet, usually in front of him on the grid.  
He remembers snapshots of the summer; the brush of Lewis’s hand against his own, his visor scraping against Lewis’s own as they both hug, his arms wrapped around Lewis’s slighter waist.  
  
  
Lewis grits his teeth as he pulls his kart through the final corner, trying to remember where his father had been standing in the practise sessions, he presses gently on the brake pedal to ease it through to the finish line. He glances behind him for a second, a flicker of the acid green colour of the helmet behind hangs in his vision before it disappears. Lewis leans forward into his steering wheel. The sweat trickles down the back of his overalls, Italy is possibly the hottest country he has raced in so far.  
  
He pumps his fist in the air as he crosses over the finish line. He yells out at the baying crowd. He’s made it safely through the heats in first place. Lewis pulls into the pits, scrambling out of his kart and over to his father. His father’s arms still clasp him tightly, they still provide the warmth and comfort he needs to feel after a race. He’s grown a few inches in the past few months but his arms still only manage to just scrape themselves around his father’s shoulders. His dad touches his helmet gently with his knuckles and Lewis grins.  
  


* * *

  
  
Nico is riding around the track where all the motorhomes and trailers are parked on his unicycle. He smiles as he feels the wind ruffle his blonde hair. His race is later in the day. The German glances up at the cloudless sky, feeling the heat of the sun. It’s another baking hot day; it’s a norm for Nico, growing in the humidity of Monaco along the Mediterranean Sea; racing in Italy, Germany, France, Japan, all over the world. The sun always feels the same. It makes the sweat soak his overalls, makes his hair stick to the nape of his neck. He’s growing it again much to his father’s dismay. He drags a hand through his hair as he rounds the corner. However, he doesn’t realise there is a young driver too rounding the corner, jogging in his haste to get back to his trailer and change.  
  
Nico clatters into something soft. He bites his lip as he ends up on the floor, unicycle tangled around his legs. Nico opens his eyes, feeling soft material underneath his fingers meaning that he didn’t land on the grass (he’d only fallen over twice today). Blue eyes lock on brown.  
  
  
“Lewis.” Nico says, realising he’s lying half on top of his childhood friend.  
  
He scrambles off the Brit, picking up his unicycle. Lewis looks different somehow, clad in his ever-present overalls, this time, they are white. He’s got his name stitched onto these ones. McLaren Mercedes is emblazoned across his chest, almost like a brand. Nico feels his mouth go dry. Lewis told him about last year when he won his second British Championship and Ron fucking Dennis called him up to congratulate him.  
  
“He signed me up to the driver development programme and said there’s a future potential Formula One seat. Nico, I just can’t believe it. I never expected to get this far. Mercedes liked me. _Mercedes_.”  
  
Nico laughs down the phone. “I always knew you could do it.” He forces down the curl of jealousy that had risen up at Lewis’s news.  
  
Lewis has grown by a few inches but Nico is still taller. He looks rougher around the edges; his hair is buzzed short, it’s the first time Nico has seen it so short. It suits him, yet Nico finds himself missing the crazy black curls. His eyes seem darker, liquid black.  
  
“Nico!” Nico loves the way Lewis says his name, he rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Man, I didn’t know you were here. You racing?”  
  
Nico feels the smile gloss across his face. “Yeah, I’m in the next heat. I was just taking my mind off things. I was sick of watching the other drivers and examining what they do. My dad insists-“ He stops mid-sentence, his cheeks turning red.  
  
Lewis smiles. Nico spots the tell-tale wires, showing Lewis’s braces. “You fancy coming to mine for a Pot Noodle?”  
  
Nico nods and picks up his unicycle.  


* * *

  
  
The first thing Nico notices about Lewis’s temporary home is the size. It’s quite small, there’s a small kitchenette in the back with two gas rings, a tiny sink and enough counter space for a kettle and a microwave. There’s a small pint of milk sitting on the linoleum top. Lewis opens one of the cupboards and pulls out two Pot Noodles. He flicks the switch on the kettle. Nico hovers around, glancing at the rest of the messy motorhome. There’s a small couch and table area to his left and a bunk above the driving seat.  
  
Lewis moves over to the bunk and rifles through a bag on the floor. He shucks out of his white overalls, the McLaren disappearing from sight. Nico bites his lip as the curve of Lewis’s bare back is revealed, untouched caramel skin dances in the faint sunlight. He never really noticed Lewis’s body before.  
  
Lewis turns around to grab an old McLaren t-shirt from the floor. He sniffs it for a second. Nico laughs, hoping that it would distract him from snatching a glance of Lewis’s lightly muscled chest. He’s still scrawny – he always has been – but Nico feels his mouth go dry as he glances at the golden skin, the light muscle tone, the beginning of a light dusting of hair around his belly button. He looks away as Lewis pulls on his t-shirt. McLaren claims him once more.  
  
  
Lewis tries to focus on the task at hand – all he is doing is pouring boiling water into a pot of noodles. He pulls the kettle towards him and tips it upright in a jerking motion. A drop of boiling hot water lands on his hand.  
  
“Shit.” He hisses in pain. Pale fingers immediately brush against his own, glossing gently over the sore red mark.  
  
“You hurt yourself?” Nico’s voice is tinged with a touch of concern.  
  
Lewis bites his lip, Nico’s touch ghosts across his skin. He ignores the jolt across his groin. He snatches his hand away.  
  
“I’m fine.” He mumbles, the lie rolls off his tongue easily.  
  
Nico frowns as he watches his childhood friend pour the boiling water into the two plastic pots, a small frown line brushes between his eyes. Nico wonders what he is thinking about. Lewis picks up the two plastic pots filled with noodles and two forks. Nico follows him to the front step. Lewis sits down and beckons for Nico to sit next to him. He is handed a plastic pot, lightly steaming. It smells of cheap beef and tomato and Nico knows if his father were here, he would snatch it from his hands and present him with an apple or another piece of fruit.  
  
“Sorry that it’s not the gourmet shit you’re used to.” Lewis picks at his noodles.  
  
Nico laughs. “Fuck off, Hamilton.”  
  
“That is some terrible language you’ve picked up, Rosberg. I should wash your mouth out with soap.”  
  
“I don’t even know what that means.” Nico says, smiling. He digs his fork into the noodles. The first spoonful slops down the front of his t-shirt. (He’d started wearing his race overalls like Lewis did, tied around his waist and a thin t-shirt underneath – Italy was far too hot – Keke muttered something about James Hunt before he’d stalked back to Nico’s kart to do the final checks on it.) Lewis laughs and Nico can’t help but smile.  
  
“Aren’t you supposed to be racing in that?” Lewis asks around a mouthful of noodles.  
  
Nico nods, his mouth too full of noodles. They’re different – he isn’t used to such cheap food. They have little flavour – Nico has had his fill of real beef fillets - but they are food, food prepared by Lewis no less. Nico feels the blush spread across his cheeks as he evaluates his thoughts, when did a small plastic pot make him feel so warm inside? Lewis’s knees are brushing up against his own. He twirls his fork around some more noodles and shoves them in his mouth.  
  
“What time do you race at?” Lewis asks.  
  
“At six, but my dad will want to speak to me afterwards.”  
  
“Come and find me afterwards. I have a surprise for you.” Lewis smiles, showing off his braces.  
  
Nico glances down at the smudges of orange-brown dirt clinging to his bright white racing shoes. He feels Lewis tense next to him and he quickly looks up, blue eyes lock with brown. “Sure thing, I’ve missed spending time with you.” Nico says and he means every word.  


* * *

  
  
Nico tugs down at the t-shirt as he stands by the side of his kart. After he and Lewis had finished eating their noodles, Lewis had tossed a t-shirt at his head. “Here, borrow this for the race since it’s my fault that you now have noodle sauce all over you.”  
  
“I can handle a little noodle sauce on my shirt, Lew.” Nico says, teasingly.  
  
“Consider it a good luck charm then. You know, since I’ll be watching.” Lewis grins, winking at the German.  
  
Nico hides his blush by pulling off his shirt. Lewis’s t-shirt is a little tight around his shoulders but that’s to be expected – Lewis is much slighter – and it rides up a little around his hipbones but he’ll have his overalls on over the top.  
  
The scent of Lewis hits him – the light smell of sweat, masked over with Lynx, motor oil and a touch of his father’s cologne.  
  
“It fits you perfectly.” Lewis remarks.  
  
“Of course it does.” Nico replies, his voice suddenly filled with confidence.  
  
Nico doesn’t dare to glance up at the crowd until he’s pulled his helmet on. The smooth plastic glides over his head easily, he runs his gloved hands over the smooth curves of his helmet. He’s getting into race mode. Nico sits down heavily on the seat of his kart and inhales deeply. He’s only had the helmet on a minute or two and already the lining is beginning to dampen with a light sheen of sweat. It’s not as hot as when Lewis raced but the conditions are still very warm and humid.  
  
Nico feels the stickiness pull on his fingers as he clasps the steering wheel in his hands. He finally convinces himself to glance up at the stands – there’s lots of nameless faces, he spots the person he was looking for. Lewis is leaning against the railings, his hat jammed firmly on his head as he swigs from a can of Coke occasionally. He swears that Lewis gives him a short, sharp salute, showing off his beaming grin. Nico fights off the smile that settles on his face. He snaps down his visor and takes another deep breath. It’s time to race.  


* * *

  
  
Nico has never felt his heart beat so readily waiting for the green lights to blink on. The moment arrives. He grips his steering wheel, his foot pressing down on the accelerator. He eases up ever so slightly as his kart revs into action, tearing its way through the track. He manages to fire his way into first place. The Italian circuit is much bumpier than he is used to and he grits his teeth as he fights not only to keep the influx of drivers from challenging his position, but he has to focus on keeping his kart on the smooth track.  
He misses the apex on the first corner but he manages to correct his mistake, only a fraction of his tyre touches the grass.  
  
“Focus, Nico. Focus.” He whispers to himself.  
  
It seems to work as he pulls into the next corner easily, braking comfortably and taking all the space he needs. He eases off on the brake pedal as he rounds into a straight section of the track. He changes gear, reacting quickly to the circuit’s demands. It’s rougher than he’s used to and his kart keeps wanting to spin off. He grits his teeth and focuses on nothing but the track in front of him and how the kart reacts to the corners and even to the small dips in the tarmac.  
  
He brakes heavily into the next corner and he feels his tyres lock up, but thankfully, the kart behind him seems to make the same mistake. Nico makes a note in the back of his mind to drop his speed a touch when he takes the corner once more. He focuses on putting the time between himself and the other karts.  


* * *

  
  
Nico smirks as his kart runs over the start line, he’s only got one lap to go. He’s controlled the race beautifully and held off about six attacks from various kart drivers. One of them tried to copy Lewis’s technique of slipping around Nico’s left side, but Nico reacted just in time and managed to block it by shifting his kart away just a touch from the apex of the corner. The last lap is the one that makes Nico’s heart beat even faster, first place isn’t guaranteed but it’s so close, Nico feels like he has to seize it with both hands.  
He accelerates down the flat straight, ignoring the slight bump of his kart. The kart behind him seems to replicate his driving line, hoping to catch his slipstream. Nico swears under his breath as he eases up on the accelerator into the first corner. He manages to hold off the attack.  
  
The next sweeping corner arrives quickly, he feels his tyres lock up a touch as they had done previously. The kart behind seizes his opportunity and squeezes around the inside. Nico lets out a curse. He’s worked so hard to control this race and there’s not a chance he’s vanquish his first place up now. He presses on the accelerator once more, just a touch and brakes early into the next corner, a trick he knows will make Lewis smile. He tries to brush away thoughts of the Brit as his kart commits to the corner.  
  
He manages to squeeze the other kart out, forcing it to brake later to avoid rolling over on the grass. Nico floors it down to the finish line. His heart seems to start beating as the tread of his tyres crosses the white line. He pumps his fist in the air. Sweat is clinging to his neck and his hair. He feels exhausted.  
  
Nico glances up at the cheering crowd. Lewis is watching, a huge smirk is painted across his face. He glances away as he pulls his tired body from his kart. His father is standing by the side of the track, his face is lit up with pride. It flashes only for a second as Keke embraces his son.  
  
“Well done, Nico. You raced very well. That last corner though, you almost threw your hard work away. Next time, you need to make sure you are concentrating through all corners. I don’t know where you learnt that last manoeuvre on the corner but it wasn’t very clean. I didn’t like it. You seemed distracted-“ Keke doesn’t get to finish scolding his son as a slighter form jumps on the German teenager.  
  
Nico’s eyes widen as a familiar faded McLaren t-shirt pushes up against his overalls and a black cap brushes against his nose.  
  
“I knew you could do it! Man, you gave me a scare on that last corner.” Lewis yells in his ear.  
  
  
Keke frowns, the British accent sounds familiar. The teenager currently wrapped around his son has dark skin and buzzed hair. He looks scruffy, a faded white McLaren t-shirt and fraying jeans. Keke doesn’t like the dark hand pressed around Nico’s neck, Nico’s arm wrapped around the other teenager’s waist, his fingers brushing against the thin t-shirt.  
  
The teenager realises they are been observed. He glances at Keke and slowly removes his arms from around his son’s neck. Nico’s arm however, remains at the other boy’s waist. Keke tries not to focus too much on it.  
  
“Oh, hey, sorry for interrupting Mr Rosberg.” The teenager says. Brown eyes look at him, he knows those eyes, Anthony Hamilton’s eyes.  
  
“Lewis, I didn’t know you were here. I haven’t seen your father.”  
  
“He’s catching up on some sleep back at the trailer. He was watching me race earlier. Thought I’d come and check out Nico’s race.” Keke raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t say anything else. Nico keeps his eyes locked on his father. Keke moves away, no doubt he will give Nico a piece of mind when Lewis has left, but for now, Nico is able to celebrate his victory, his arm still around Lewis’s waist.  


* * *

  
  
  
“I can’t believe you messed up on the last corner, Nico. If the driver behind you had been anything other than an amateur, you would have lost that race.” Keke says, his voice is low and controlled. However, his eyes show anything but calm. They’re narrowed, bloodshot and angry.  
  
Nico opens his mouth but closes it quickly as he decides against arguing with his father. He’s used to him picking holes in every single race, even the ones he has won.  
  
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Keke asks, his voice raising around the edges a touch.  
  
Nico looks down at his shoes. There’s still a smudge of orange-brown dirt on the left toe.  
  
“You were sloppy and distracted-“ Keke continues. Nico tunes out the continuous droning of his father. He used to listen to his father in the beginning, when he was eight and he didn’t have the callouses on the palms of his hands from gripping the steering wheel and changing the gear. Nico knows he made a mistake. He also knows he’ll never make the same mistake again. He jolts as he hears Lewis’s name suddenly fall from his father’s lips.  
  
“What?” He asks, mouth dry.  
  
“You heard me. You pull a completely rash and unprofessional manoeuvre like _Hamilton_ going into the final corner, if you bumped into the other kart and you were in Formula One, you’d have a penalty.”  
  
“But I am not in Formula One, dad.” Nico spits back, his accent jagged on the ends of his words. “And what does the manoeuvre have to do with Lewis?”  
  
“I saw him perform exactly the same one in his own race…and I am sure he did it to you once when you raced him.”  
  
“I did what I thought was right at that exact moment.”  
  
“Rosbergs always race cleanly.”  
  
Nico averts his gaze. He hates it when his father pulls out the old family traditions and the history, stretching back years.   
  
“…and I want to know why Lewis was all over you at the end of the race.” Nico panics, feeling his heart thud against his ribs.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Lewis Hamilton was all over you after the race. I wasn’t impressed at all. It doesn’t give off the right impression-“  
  
“Lewis was supporting me, dad. He watched the race from the stands.” Keke stops for a moment. Nico swears he can see the cogs inside his father’s mind whirling.  
  
“He races too, Nico. He wants the same thing as you do, you can’t let this _friendship_ get in the way of that.”  
  
Nico snorts. “Dad, you don’t let me talk to anyone out of fear of them compromising my race.”  
  
“I didn’t become World Champion because of my friends or my loyalty towards them. I didn’t become the best because I was best friends with Lauda, son. I became World Champion because I wanted to beat everyone out there.”  
  
“So you tell me after every race, dad!” Nico fires back, wetness stings at his eyes. “But when you became World Champion, your dad didn’t criticise every move you made up until that point.”  
  
“Nico, I do this for you, to make sure that you are the best you can be.”  
  
“By criticising me and-“  
  
“Listen,” his dad cuts him off once more, his face is red with anger. “Lewis Hamilton will never be in Formula One, no constructor will take him on. He has no future in the sport. You on the other hand, you are the son of a previous World Champion. You were meant to follow in my footsteps, Nico.”  
  
“What if I don’t want to follow in your footsteps dad?” Nico asks, his voice soft, as he walks out of the motorhome.  
  
Nico glances back down at his shoes. He feels the soft cotton underneath his overalls, the faintest trace of Lewis still clings to the material. Nico closes his eyes and sighs, feeling the dying sunlight on his face. He pushes his overalls back down messily around his waist and looks out over the track, his head spinning with thoughts.

 

* * *

 

  
Lewis climbs up the steps of his motorhome. He’s eager to grab his towel and walk over to the showers in the circuit block. He needs to wash away the sweat and grime of today’s race.  
  
“Hey son,” Anthony is sitting at the small table, eating cereal and watching the golf on the crappy portable television they brought with them.  
  
“Hey, dad, just going to grab a quick shower.” Lewis says, rooting through his bunk to find a clean t-shirt. He can’t remember where he left his towel.  
  
“Where have you been?” Anthony asks between a mouthful of cereal.  
  
Lewis raises an eyebrow. His father rarely asks him where he has been, he lets Lewis go where he wants, knowing that he’s as much of a social butterfly as his father.  
  
“I went to watch Nico race.” Lewis replies, casually.  
  
“Nico? As in Keke Rosberg’s son?”  
  
Lewis rolls his eyes and smiles fondly at his father. “It’s not like we know many other Nicos, dad. I haven’t seen him race from the side-lines and I was bored so you know, I figured-“  
  
However, Anthony Hamilton does not smile back at his son. He frowns. “You’ve been hanging out with him a lot recently.”  
  
Lewis looks confused. “He’s a good friend, dad. I don’t really know anyone else that well on the track.”  
  
“That’s what I’m worried about.” Anthony says, his dark eyes focused on his son."  
  
I don’t get it. I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to race and to win. But I don’t have to be alone when I do it.” Lewis remarks, his tone defensive.  
  
“I understand your point, son. I just think you should start distancing yourself from Nico a little bit.”  
  
Lewis narrows his eyes, brown darkens to an almost liquid black. “Why?”  
  
“Because you’re too different, Lewis!” Anthony shouts. “His father is a Formula One World Champion, he’s from a completely different world to us. He’s expected to do well-“  
  
“So what are you saying, dad? Are you suggesting that I’m going to fail because you’re not a World Champion?” Lewis is angry, he’s so tired of being doubted; he has to face people at every race who think he is too hot-headed to race, they judge him on his background. He’s disappointed his father is doing the same.  
  
“I’m not saying that at all, Lewis and you know it.” His father states, rubbing his hand over his face.  
  
“Then what are you saying?” Lewis is trying to keep it together and not fall apart.  
  
“I’m saying that you should think about your friendship with Nico, that’s all. He’s from a completely different world of racing, he’s used to stepping on and casting people to one side to get his own way and to win. I don’t want him to do that to you, Lewis.”  
  
Lewis feels the sting of tears at his eyes as his father’s words hit him.  
  
“You were the one who introduced me to Nico! You were the one who pushed me into racing and let me hang out with Nico half my life. If you thought he was such a horrible person, why did you let me become friends with him?”  
  
Anthony has no answer.  
  
Lewis continues, his hands balling up into fists as he launches hot, angry words at his father. “I don’t understand you sometimes. You tell me I am going to be a winner someday, then you say that if I stay friends with a boy I’ve known all my life, I’m doomed to fail. My career isn’t based around who I make friends with, dad. We’re not so different, Nico and I. He might have a World Champion for a father but that means nothing in racing. Senna didn’t have a World Champion for a dad, it’s not a disadvantage.” With that, he abandons the idea of a shower and stalks out of the motorhome, tears racing down his cheeks.


	6. 1999 (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis and Nico comfort one another after their conflicts with their fathers, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Next part is a touch early than usual, I'll blame the Mercedorks for this! So this chapter is part two, it includes a bit of underage drinking and a warning for a bit of violence (a slap in the face), so warning for that.  
> Enjoy!

Lewis lets his feet carry him over to the food and drink area. The air is thick with the smell of fried chicken, sticky chips and cheap beer. Lewis wanders around the stalls, head down, his thoughts full of his father and Nico. He wonders if his father was right. Was Nico really going to walk all over him on his conquest to win every race? Lewis knew he wasn’t prepared to let him do that.  
  
Lewis glances at his watch. It’s approaching eight in the evening. The sun has slipped below the horizon, casting pale golden light upon the racetrack. The shadows seem to grow in size. Lewis scuffs his trainers against the drying grass. He should be heading back to the motorhome and catching up on his sleep, ready for the race tomorrow. Lewis is too wired. His back is still wet with sweat, his eyes are still wet with tears and his mind is still wet with thoughts. He shivers slightly in the cooling evening air. There’s an electronic song pumping out of the speakers – something about blowing a place up – Lewis can’t focus on the music right now.  
  
He ends up in the makeshift bar tent. It isn’t long before someone buys him a drink – Lewis briefly remembers his face and something that resembles a name – Robert Kuba or Kubica or something – presses a drink into his hands with a smile. Lewis gulps it down in one go. It tastes sour on his tongue, he’s not used to such drinks. He grimaces but accepts the next one.  
  


* * *

  
Nico is standing by the side of the racetrack, revelling in the quiet. It’s not a warm evening, unusual for Italy, but it’s peaceful. Nico finds it difficult to believe that the same sight will be filled with crowds tomorrow, chatters, cheers and the sound of tyres hitting the racetrack. His father’s words about Lewis turn over and over in his head. Nico takes a deep breath and pushes the anger away.  
  
“Nico!” The German spins around, not recognising the accent immediately.  
  
“Just leave me alone, I don’t want to listen to your lies right now.” He spits.  
  
“Woah, hey, man. When did I lie to you?” Lewis shuffles up to where Nico is standing. His voice is a little slurred and his dark eyes are a little more tired, but he’s wearing the same faded t-shirt and ratty old jeans.  
  
“Sorry, Lew.” Nico says, quietly. “Are you…drunk?”  
  
Lewis drops down next to him. “No, man. I’ve had one beer, I’m not that much of a lightweight.”  
  
Nico feels the ghost of a smile. “I’m German, compared to me, you’re like an amateur.”  
  
Lewis laughs. “You’re right. I think this is the second alcoholic drink I’ve ever had. Dad never lets me drink…Mum would kill me if she saw me. They said there’s enough time for me to do that when I’m older, focus on school and racing.”  
  
He offers him the bottle. Nico isn’t even sure what is in it but he takes a swig. It’s sour and bitter and it burns his tongue but it makes him forget his father’s words for a moment. Lewis’s clothed knee presses against his own, it’s warm and comforting. Nico hands back the bottle, their fingers brush just for a second. Nico swears that he sees a slight blush flick across Lewis’s cheeks as he moves the bottle away and drinks.  
  
“Where did you get that?”  
  
“Robert – he said I looked like I needed it.” Nico feels a curl of jealousy twist inside his chest.  
  
He glances at his childhood friend, the bottle looks huge in his hands. Lewis holds it too tightly, not with the looseness that his own father does. Nico has had a glass or two of champagne and his father has given him sips of beer whilst they were holidaying on the yacht.  
  
Lewis takes another swig, he misses his mouth and some of the amber liquid dances down his mouth. Lewis licks his lips and Nico looks away, but only for a moment. Lewis passes the bottle back to Nico. Nico takes a long drink.  
  
“I had an argument with my dad.” Lewis says, out of the blue.  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything. He knows it’s better to let Lewis speak. “We argued about you.” Lewis adds, his tone is almost bitter.  
  
“Me?” Nico whispers, passing the bottle back to his friend.  
  
“He told me that it should distance myself from you.” Nico felt his heart speed up at Lewis’s words. Lewis looked directly at him, brown eyes locked with blue. “I don’t understand, Nico…I don’t understand what is so wrong. He said that we’re from different worlds. I mean, I understand that. You live in Monaco and your dad has a yacht and he’s a Formula One World Champion. I live in a tiny flat in Stevenage with my dad and he works three jobs just so I can race. I know we’re from different worlds but I don’t feel jealous or anything…I don’t even notice most of the time…he said that you would step on me and do anything you could to succeed.”  
  
Nico feels cold. Lewis takes a swig of the bottle. Nico notices that his hands are shaking ever so slightly. His eyes glitter with unshed tears.  
  
“I just want to win.” Nico grabs Lewis’s hand and rubs over the golden fingers with his pale thumb.  
  
“You will win. I’ve watch you race a fair few times now. Mika once was hanging out with my dad and he asked where you had learnt to drive like that.” Lewis blushes and looks away. "Besides, we have a promise to fulfil. We’re going to be teammates in Formula One, remember?” Nico continues, squeezing Lewis’s hand gently.  
  
Lewis nods, leaning into Nico’s shoulder.  


* * *

  
  
  
“Father and I argued about you too.” Nico slurs.  
  
The bottle is almost empty. They’ve been lying on the grass for god knows how long – the digital numbers on Lewis’s watch flash midnight. The grass is damp but the night is warm, a little humid - Lewis glances at Nico, his face is guarded and his eyes look golden brown under the floodlights lighting the track. He feels buzzed right now – the lights seem to be dancing. Lewis bites his lip.  
  
“What did he say?”  
  
“That I didn’t need any friends. I needed to be alone if I wanted to be Formula One Champion.” Nico says, his voice holds a touch of bitterness.  
  
“Well, no offence, Nico, but your dad must lead a lonely life if the only friend he has is his World Champion trophy.”  
  
Nico feels a bubble of laughter spill from his lips. He closes his eyes, feels the damp soak into his overalls, he’s dizzy and he wants to stop the world spinning for a second.  
“He keeps his trophy in a special room in Monaco. I think he gets our maid to polish it every day.”  
  
“Seriously, man? Doesn’t your mum get mad when he tucks it in bed next to him every night?” Lewis says, his eyes are glassy and dark.  
  
“Don’t-“ Nico lets out another laugh. “My mum hates his racing room. She says he’s encouraging me.”  
  
“You don’t need any encouragement.” Lewis giggles. He’d gotten up at some point and got another bottle of alcohol from somewhere, Nico isn’t sure where and he doesn’t want to ask. They finish that bottle off too. It lies in the grass next to the two teenagers. Nico glances over at Lewis who is sprawled out in the grass, his t-shirt rides up on one side, exposing his hipbone. Nico can’t seem to take his eyes off the unmarked golden skin.  
  
“You okay, Nico?” Lewis asks, his golden brown eyes shine in the light. A thread of concern tugs on his features.  
  
“I’m fine.” Nico says, his eyes flicking away from the exposed skin of his best friend. He didn’t know why he kept looking at Lewis’s eyes, at his hipbones, at Lewis in general and he kept getting a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach. He feels the familiar pull in his lower belly as Lewis looks at him and smiles.  
  
“So, are we going to be like Romeo and Juliet?” Lewis asks, his voice teasing.  
  
Nico jolts. “What are you talking about, Lew?”  
  
“You know, forbidden fruit and all that shit.” Lewis says, letting his head fall back against the grass.  
  
“I’m not coming to your balcony in Stevenage and reading you love poems, Lewis.”  
  
Lewis lets out his beautiful trademark laugh. “I wouldn’t even let you come to Stevenage, Nico.”  
  
A moment of silence passes between them. It’s comfortable.  
  
“Hey, do you really think we’ll be partners in Formula One?” Lewis says, quietly as though he’s thinking about it.  
  
“I know we’ll be partners in Formula One.” Nico replies.  
  
“I’m just trying to imagine us wearing the same overalls and racing in the same cars.” Lewis rolls over onto his side, facing Nico.  
  
Nico examines him again; Lewis pulls his knees up to his chest, the action, coupled with his baggy clothes and his shining brown eyes make Nico remember how young Lewis truly is. Lewis knows nothing of life inside Formula One; Nico’s parents don’t share a bed anymore, his father spends all his time travelling the world and he throws himself into Team Rosberg. Lewis never has the crippling pressure of having a Formula One World Champion for a father, he never has to look at his father’s look of disappointment when he comes second in a race. Nico often looks at his father’s shiny trophies and rosettes and wonder if it was all worth it.  
  
“We’d share podiums and spray each other with champagne.” Nico says gently.  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything about the photographs littered around his house, full of faces that he’s grown up with. The photographs look washed out as most photographs taken in the 70s do – the faces seem ageless – Hunt, Lauda, Peterson, Andretti, Prost – Nico has grown up knowing the names but they all never seemed real. Lewis never has to know that.  
  
“Hey Nico, you know you’re my best friend right?” Lewis says, his voice is quiet and unconfident.  
  
“Yeah, and you’re my best friend too.” Nico replies immediately.  
  
Lewis seems to brighten at his response. They lay back in the grass, their eyes drooping from the heat and exhaustion of the day’s events.  


* * *

  
  
  
Nico wakes up an hour later, disorientated. He blinks at the bright floodlights. They’ve stopped dancing. He’s had less to drink than Lewis – who is still passed out on the grass next to him. Lewis is curled up on his side, his t-shirt is still pulled halfway up his torso, showing off the lightly formed muscles. He’s breathing so slowly and quietly that Nico finds himself pressing his fingers to Lewis’s ribcage to check the teenager is still breathing. Lewis moves in his sleep, moving against Nico’s leg. Nico chuckles lightly and shakes the Brit gently.  
  
“Lewis, Lew, c’mon. Wake up.”  
  
Lewis stirs, a wrinkle appearing between his eyes. He twists in on himself, curling into a ball as he groans.  
  
“Leave me alone, Nick.” He moans.  
  
Nico smiles. “I’m not Nick, I’m Nico. We need to get back to bed, our fathers will go crazy if our beds are empty in the morning.” He shakes Lewis again. Lewis unravels himself and finally opens his eyes, glancing up at his friend. His eyes are still dark with drink, they’re still glassy.  
  
“I don’t want to go back. I wanna stay with you. You’re warm.”  
  
Nico shakes his head. “Time for bed, Sleeping Beauty.” He says gently.  
  
“You’re the one with the princess hair.” Lewis slurs and closes his eyes once more.  
  
Nico shakes him. Lewis lets a groan – Nico smiles once more at how disgruntled Lewis sounds at being awoken.  
  
  
  
It takes Nico about ten minutes to persuade Lewis to stop snoozing on the grass. The Brit sighs heavily and drags himself upright, ready to walk back to his motorhome. However, Nico notices that the alcohol is still affecting Lewis. The Brit is unsteady on his feet, swaying a little. Nico stares at his childhood friend, blue eyes wide.  
  
“Lewis? Are you okay?” He asks, concern in his voice.  
  
He glances over the Brit, same faded McLaren t-shirt and ragged jeans, yet there’s something _different_ about Lewis. Nico catches his eye. Lewis’s brown eyes are still clouded, there’s something not quite right – a touch of confusion and disorientation.  
  
“I’m great, Nico, just fantastic.” Lewis slurs, he almost falls over as he moves towards Nico.  
  
Nico, blessed with the Rosberg fast reflexes, catches the young Brit before he falls. Lewis lays limply against Nico’s chest, giggling. The light puff of breath brushes against Nico’s t-shirt and he exhales heavily. Lewis is warm and pliant. Nico wrestles one of Lewis’s arms over his shoulder and tries to focus on getting Lewis over to the grass so he has somewhere soft to land if he falls over. Lewis giggles again, his breath hot against Nico’s ear. Nico bites his lip.  
  
“C’mon you idiot.” He whispers, his voice fond.  
  
“I want ice cream.” Lewis slurs as he follows Nico back towards the campsite.  


* * *

  
  
  
Nico doesn’t remember much of the previous night when he wakes up in the morning. It is race day and he always wakes up early on race days. He’s got a touch of a headache and there’s a dead weight on his arm. It’s warm in his bunk – warmer than usual. Nico realises that there is another person in his bunk with him, his chest – his bare chest he notes, still half asleep, is pressed against the back of the person in front of him. Nico thinks he is still dreaming. He jolts awake, eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light filtering into the motorhome.  
  
He can’t see the person in front of him, he can feel a lightly muscled chest against his hand, thin legs and feet tangle around his own. The smell of alcohol mixed in with sweat, oil and a touch of vanilla permeates Nico’s nostrils. He glances down and looks straight at his best friend curled up next to him. Lewis is still in a deep sleep, light breaths ghosting gently into the early morning air. Nico realises they’re both wearing nothing but their boxer shorts. He shuffles closer to Lewis and Lewis sighs – Nico feels a strange sensation curling around inside his chest and in his boxers.  
  
Nico glances over Lewis’s shoulder and examines his best friend. He’s never really noticed how long Lewis’s eyelashes are – they’re ebony in colour, lightly dusting against his caramel coloured skin. He has a light scattering of freckles across his cheeks that Nico never really noticed before. Nico blushes as Lewis moves in his sleep, his cheeks flush suddenly as though Lewis had just caught him staring. He’d had the lectures about how his body was going to change – it was changing right now – he noticed the dark blonde hair beginning to grow on his face, his belly button and on his legs. He wonders if Lewis’s beard has started growing. He never thought they would grow up.  
  
He imagines what he and Lewis would look like in a few years – he pictures the two of them in matching racing overalls, slightly more muscular, taller, with a dusting of hair across their faces. A loud crash jars him out of his thoughts. He hears his father potter around the motorhome, the flick of a kettle and the rattling of the cupboards. He glances at his watch, the display reads 06:30AM. He curses under his breath and begins to shake Lewis awake.  
  
  
“Lewis…Lew, you have to wake up.” The German whispers, gently tugging on Lewis’s arm to wake up the young racing driver.  
  
He fights back a smile as he watches a small crease appear on Lewis’s forehead, the Brit groans and tries to bury his head into the pillow.  
  
“Five more minutes.” Lewis groans into the soft cotton. Nico fights the urge to chuckle at how grumpy his best friend is in the mornings.  
  
"Lewis.” Nico whispers harshly, shaking his shoulder once more. Lewis unravels himself from the pillow and glances up at Nico. His hair is mussed on one side, there’s a pillow crease on his cheek and his widened eyes are golden in the dim light.  
  
“Wha…what am I doing in your bed?” Lewis exclaims, moving away from Nico, panic immediately flutters across his face.  
  
“Shhh…keep it down.” Nico whispers, glancing over at the door. “We ended up drinking together last night because our fathers hate us being friends with one another. You can’t take your drink and I carried you back here.”  
  
“I can handle my drink.” Lewis says, his voice weak, as though he doesn’t believe it himself.  
  
Nico giggles under his breath. “Is that why you look like you want to puke?”  
  
“Mixture of a hangover and race nerves, actually.” Lewis says, a small smile on his face. It’s not the toothy one Nico is used to – this one doesn’t touch his entire face, it’s a sincere smile. Nico wonders if this is truly Lewis’s character – not the teenager who befriends everyone on the track, giving out handshakes, high fives and big toothy grins.  
  
“Do you need to be sick?” Nick asks, concern in his voice.  
  
Lewis shakes his head, he’s still pale. “I think I’m good for now. Why did you bring me back here?”  
  
“I figured you didn’t want to go back to your trailer and face your dad, all drunk. You were a little unsteady on your feet-“  
  
Lewis laughs gently. “I remember lying on the grass together and I also remember you buying me ice cream at some point?”  
  
Nico smiles. The ice cream had slipped his mind. He briefly recalls stopping at an ice cream van – actually, he was dragged over to it by a very excited Lewis – he buys them both an ice cream and they both walked back, eating them. Lewis is still unsteady on his feet and there were a few times in which he almost fell down. Nico ends up holding Lewis up around the waist as the Brit licks happily at his ice cream.  
  
“I bought you ice cream, you nearly dropped it about three times and fell over twice before I half carried you.”  
  
Lewis laughs once more, smile gracing his face. “Walk of shame right?”  
  
“You could say something like that.” Nico replies.  
  
He thinks back to the previous night – Lewis had ended up pressed against Nico’s side, half supported by the younger German. He giggled, his light breath tickling Nico’s chest. His ice cream covered fingers left greasy marks on Nico’s overalls, almost marking him out as the Brits.  
  
“You took off my pants.” Lewis states after a moment of silence.  
  
Nico shakes his head, unable to keep the smile from gracing his face.  
  
“Actually, you were the one that stripped off. You said you were too warm. You tried to get in the shower.”  
  
Lewis blushes – Nico notices the faint dusky pink across his cheeks. “Oh man, I am so sorry. I guess I do stupid stuff when I am drunk.” He says, his tone apologetic.  
  
“Hey, it’s okay.” Nico says, gently. “I remember the first time I got hold of my father’s champagne. I was about six and I drank some of the huge bottle. I was falling all over the place and climbing all over his vintage cars. After we got back, I persuaded you to just take off your clothes. You laid down on the bed and you were out like a light.”  
  
Lewis doesn’t meet Nico’s eyes. “Hey, Lew, it’s okay. I have German and Finnish blood, alcohol tolerance is kind of in my genes.” Nico attempts to change the subject. He wants to see Lewis’s smile once more.  
  
“I’m just glad I have you as a friend. Thank you for letting me stay here with you. Sorry if I snuggled you, apparently, I’m a bit of a cuddler when I’m asleep.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it, I am too.” Nico laughs.  


* * *

  
Lewis feels awful. He got chewed out by his father for staying out all night – the night before a race day, he could compromise his race, his father was starting to sound like Nico’s. Lewis just nods through the yelling and the snarled insults.  
  
“So where were you?” His father snaps.  
  
“I went and stayed with Nico for the night.” Lewis looks up and looks his father straight in the eye, daring him to say something, anything about Nico.  
  
But Anthony Hamilton doesn’t say anything. A muscle twitches in his cheek. “You don’t run away from me again, Lewis. You must listen to what I have to say. I know better-“  
  
“Right, you know better because you have a Formula One trophy in your cupboard at home, Dad.” Lewis hisses, his brown eyes flash a shade darker in anger.  
  
“I will not have you speaking to me like that. This year, you have become too cocky. You act like you are in Formula One already.”  
  
Lewis narrows his eyes. “Too cocky? Right, everybody else is letting me win my races, Dad.”  
  
“You still have much to learn.” His father fires back, folding his arms.  
  
“Right…I could learn so much from another Formula One racing driver…I know the perfect person, oh, wait, I’m not allowed to hang out with them anymore because you think they’re all pricks, yet you want me to be _one_ of them-“  
  
Lewis stops as his father slaps him across the face. The sound of skin on skin echoes throughout the motorhome. Lewis pauses, pain stabbing through his cheek as he stares at his father, the man who got him into racing, who wants him to change and he’s not sure what his father wants him to be.  
  
“You’re still a child, Lewis, you’d do well to remember that. If you want to stay friends with Nico then fine, do it. But don’t come crying to me when it all goes wrong.” His father’s voice is harsh but it wavers in places.  
  
Lewis nods, setting his chin straight. “Fine by me.” He says, pushing past his father to go and find his race overalls.

* * *

  
  
Lewis sits at the side of the track, his sunburst yellow helmet sitting by his side. He’s changed into his race overalls already but he’s left his driving shoes back at the motorhome. He doesn’t want to go back there just yet, his cheek is still stinging. He thinks back to the night before; he can’t remember everything, just snippets. He remembers taking the first few swigs of beer sitting next to Nico, their knees brushing together. He remembers feeling dizzy and laying down in the grass, the damp soaking through his t-shirt; how Nico’s blue eyes seemed to darken with the alcohol.  
He remembers walking back to the motorhome, his face pressed against Nico’s chest, taking in the scent of his best friend; strawberries, petrol and a touch of smoke. He remembers shucking out of his clothes and Nico’s eyes – bright blue, wide with disbelief – as he crawled into Nico’s bunk. He remembers Nico crawling in beside him, his chest against Lewis’s back, his arms around Lewis – all Lewis could think about was how warm Nico was.  
  
  
This morning, Lewis remembers feeling grumpy as a voice – not quite British – pulls him out of his sleep. He buried his face in the pillow, not wanting to wake up. He remembers the first glance he got of Nico in the morning; it’s burnt into the back of his mind. He remembers the mussed blonde hair, the bright blue eyes staring at him fondly, he remembers Nico’s naked chest, the light dusting of blonde hair beginning on his jawbone. Lewis feels his face turn red thinking about it once more. He had shifted immediately to prevent Nico from seeing the problem he had downstairs.  
  
He wasn’t embarrassed about the erection – he had long since been educated on that subject. It was more jarring that one of his first ones should be for the German he considered his best friend. He ignored the brief flash of hurt that fell across Nico’s eyes as he had moved away.  
Lewis sighs heavily and lets his head fall in between his knees.  
  
“What is happening to me?” He asks himself, softly. There is no answer.

* * *

  
  
Nico doesn’t see Lewis until the end of the race. By the time Nico arrived on the track, Lewis was already doing laps and his father seemed reluctant to let the teenager out of his sight. Lewis ends up winning the race, easily. He manages to brake perfectly into every corner, not slowing down once. Lewis manages everything perfectly and Nico admits, if he were a spectator, he would enjoy watching Lewis race. However, as he is a competitor, he admits it can be annoying when all he can see in front of him is a white kart, bright yellow helmet shining out like a beacon.  
Lewis relishes in the role of race winner, accepting his race trophy. Even Keke goes up to him to congratulate him. Nico finishes second. There’s no champagne of course, as he stands on the podium next to Lewis; he looks up at the Brit. Lewis’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Nico notices the darkening mark on Lewis’s cheek and he stops smiling.  
  
“Did your dad hit you in the face?” Nico corners Lewis after the race, pulling him away after all the congratulations are over. Lewis looks deflated and young – Nico reaches out and runs his fingertips over the darkening bruise on the Brit’s cheek. His eyes are dark with anger.  
  
“I told him some things he didn’t want to hear.” Lewis says, a shrug in his shoulders.  
  
Nico bites his lip and withdraws his hand. “Lew, I don’t want you getting hurt for the sake of our friendship-“  
  
“Listen, Nico. I’m okay. I got hurt because I gave him some lip, alright? I’m staying friends with you, whether he likes it or not. I need you.”  
  
_I need you._ Nico blinks at the words. “I don’t understand you sometimes. You’re so unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”  
  
“I’m one of a kind, baby.” Lewis smiles and this time, it’s real.


	7. 2000 (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis gets a foot on the ladder when he is offered a position at MBM Karting. However, so does Nico. They become teammates in karting. Crashes, ice cream, arguments with dad and pizza competitions follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is split into four parts because it's so bloody long.  
> The crash scene where Lewis and Nico crash in testing actually did happen! Their pining love, not quite sure on that.  
> Enjoy!

**Italy, 2000**

Lewis is pulling himself out of his kart and straightening his overalls when the man approaches him. The crowd is applauding him and his win – it never quite hits him that they’re cheering for _him_ – he’s used to people approaching him after the race; other drivers, mechanics, members of the public, all to congratulate him on a fantastic race. However, he doesn’t recognise this man. He doesn’t look anything special – short, dark hair, fairly tall (but then, most people are taller than Lewis – he just wishes he could hit his growth spurt.)  
  
“Lewis Hamilton?” He asks as Lewis pulls off his helmet. He accepts the firm handshake the man offers.  
  
“Yeah, that’s me. Can I help you?” Lewis has never been great at introducing himself to strangers.  
  
“My name is Dino Chiesa. I work for MBM, a karting company-“  
  
“You work for Mercedes McLaren?” Lewis says in disbelief. This guy is obviously a big shot and he’s using his time, talking to him on a dusty Italian racetrack. Lewis clasps his helmet under his arm.  
  
“Indeed, I do work for them. I’m a scout of sorts – I was asked by Ron Dennis and come and check up on your progress. I must say, you have some talent.”  
  
Lewis blushes, fiddling with the collar of his race overalls. They’re emblazoned with the name of the company this guy works for. A guy who has been _sent by Mercedes McLaren to watch him_ and report back on how good they thought he was.  
  
“Thank you,” He replies, trying to resist the urge to duck his head and look at his shoes. He is about to ask Dino another question when he feels a hand grasp his shoulder. He doesn’t even need to turn and look at the person behind; he identified the familiar warmth of the fingers, the faint trace of cologne.  
  
“What’s going on here, Lewis?” His father asks, looking between his young son and the man standing next to him.  
  
“Dad, this is Dino Chiesa. He works for Mercedes McLaren in the karting division. Dino, this is my father, Anthony Hamilton.” Lewis says, watching the two men shake hands warmly. The slight frown ruffling his father’s brow has disappeared, replaced by a warm, toothy smile.  
  
“Pleased to meet you. So what do you want?” Anthony asks, his hand never moving from Lewis’s shoulder.  
  
“Well, Ron Dennis sent me out to scout Lewis, he wanted to know how well he was progressing. We do this with all our drivers on the development programme. I came to watch Lewis race today and I was extremely impressed at his ability.”  
  
Anthony beams at Dino, the pride clearly evident on his face. “He has improved so much in the last year or two. We’re hoping to get him into Formula Three next year.”  
  
“Well, we’ve had a good look at Lewis over his past few races and we’d like him to join our team competing in Formula A. This is just an offer for yourself and Lewis to consider. I’d like to invite you for a proper meeting at the Mercedes headquarters so we can discuss this in more detail instead of on the side of the race track.”  
  
Anthony nods. “Of course, we can set up a meeting.”  
  
Handshakes are exchanged once more and Anthony leads Lewis away from the racetrack. Lewis feels a tugging sensation in his chest at the thought of competing in the pinnacle of karting competitions. He glances at his father worriedly. He doubts they can afford to keep him in Formula A. The fees and costs of running the kart would be extortionate. However, the cheers of the crowd, coupled with his father’s smile, make him forget for a few minutes. He stands atop of his kart and raises his arms in the air.

 

* * *

 

“So thank you for coming.” Dino says from behind his mahogany desk.  
  
Lewis glances around the room and leans back gently into his chair. He’s afraid to break something. Even the pen that Dino is holding, poised elegantly in his fingers, looks expensive. Lewis glances at his father who looks equally uncomfortable in his charcoal suit. Lewis shuffles around in his seat. His mum made him wear one of the shirts she usually reserves for weddings or christenings – it’s a light blue one with a heavily starched collar – it makes Lewis itch.  
  
“So, I had another conservation with Ron and he seemed very happy with Lewis being on the team. In fact, he seemed to remember a time a few years ago when a young boy came up to him and offered to drive his cars. He was very amused.” Lewis feels the blush crawl up his neck.  
  
“Right, but we need to talk figures and business, what you expect of Lewis and of myself.” Anthony says, leaning back on his chair.  
  
“Of course,” Dino replies with a wave of his hand. “We are going to fund everything in this venture, as we will be with the other driver you will be working with. We see this as a further development programme for Lewis to hone his skills on and off the track.”  
  
“And this will be written into Lewis’s contract?”  
  
“Yes. I understand your concern, Mr Hamilton. I can assure you that Lewis will be well looked after.”  
  
“I just don’t want him to have to go through all those strict regulations and be left out to dry with all the crippling debt at the end of the season. We barely keep him racing as it is.”  
  
“Of course, Mr Hamilton. You don’t have to sign the contract until you’ve looked over it and are satisfied with its conditions.”  
  
Anthony nodded, looking satisfied.  
  
“So, if I sign the contract,” Lewis begins, “I stay for a couple of years, then what happens then? I’d like to know the long term action plan.”  
  
Dino smiles. “So, as you are aware, Formula A is the top level of karting. The reason we wanted you to begin here is because we wanted to get you used to the conditions of motor racing. The regulations in Formula A are almost as watertight as those for Formula One. You have to be a specific weight, have a specific engine and there’s other rules you must abide by. We figured that by placing you in Formula A first, we can control your racing knowledge and development, allowing you to hone your skills. Our aim is to compete for the European Championship and the World Cup this year. Then we will have two options based upon your progress, the first is to retain you for another year and hone your skills more finely, the other is move you into car racing. We would prefer the latter.”  
  
“So would I.” Lewis says, quietly, mulling over his options.  
  
“Why can’t he move straight into car racing now?” Anthony asks, his tone is merely curious.  
  
“To tell you the truth, Lewis is not ready for car racing just yet. From what I have seen, he is like a rough diamond. The talent and the ability are there, they just need honing. Besides, every racing driver worth his salt in Formula 1 started in karting – Raikkonen, Prost, Schumacher, Senna…”  
  
Lewis’s head snaps upright. Anthony notices his son’s reaction and knows that he will be signing the contract Dino presents him with. Dino is still talking. “He’ll be a better racing driver if he does this.” He states. “And his partner is an effective and good driver, very calculating. He’s going to be a rookie too, we pulled him straight from karting in Germany. They’ll be a good team together.”  
  
“Who is it?” Lewis asks, he wants to know if it’s someone he knows.  
  
“Nico Rosberg.” Dino remarks. Lewis’s eyes widen and he fights to hide his excitement.  
  
All the times he and Nico had talked about becoming teammates, standing side by side on the podium, winning together, and that dream was slowly becoming a reality.  
He walks out of the Mercedes offices with his father, deep in thought.

 

* * *

 

Lewis has been home less than nine hours. He’s tired but he’s trying to stay awake. He is lying on his bed, his headphones in, listening to the tinny strains of Dr Dre. He is rapping out loud, when something taps him on the shoulder. His father stands over him, looking amused. Lewis pops out one of his earbuds.  
Anthony hands him the phone and leaves the room, shutting the door carefully behind him.  
  
Lewis raises an eyebrow and lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”  
  
“Lewis.” He knows that voice, he recognises the guttural L. It’s deeper, thick in his ear.  
  
“Nico, man. How’ve you been?”  
  
“Great. I heard some interesting news through the grapevine.”  
  
“Yeah, and what’s that?” Lewis asks, tracing circles on his bedspread.  
  
“Heard that I’m going to be seeing more of you.” Lewis can hear the smile in Nico’s voice.  
  
“Fuck, I was asked like less than a day ago. How the hell did you find out about it already?” Lewis says, his tone full of disbelief.  
  
“I have my sources…no, I’m just kidding. When I signed my contract, my dad insisted on knowing who my potential teammate was. He just mentioned your name and I had to call you and see if he was right.”  
  
Lewis laughs weakly. “I don’t know…it’s not for definite yet. My dad is looking through the contract they offered over the next couple of days. He won’t let me sign if anything is wrong.”  
  
“Of course, that’s understandable. Dad doesn’t let me sign anything without him checking through it first. But seriously, we might be teammates this year?”  
  
“Maybe.” Lewis says, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry, I have been driving through France all day. I literally got home about an hour ago. I was in Italy, racing. I’m so tired.”  
  
Nico makes a noise that sounds something like sympathy. “I’m sorry for calling you. I just wanted to hear it from you if it was true. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”  
  
“I know. Remember when we laid down in the grass at Monza and described what it would be like to be teammates? And now, we more or less are.”  
  
“If your dad lets you sign the contract.” Nico says, playfully.  
  
“I’m sure he will. He wanted me to skip Formula A and go straight into Formula Three. It was my decision, he said, but I want to make him proud and I want to do the right thing.”  
  
“I know how you feel. Dad offered to put me straight into Team Rosberg in Formula Three…but I don’t want my success to be built off the back of my fathers.”  
  
“Of course. You know when we were little, I was so jealous of the fact that your dad was a Formula One driver, a champion no less. Then I realised how much pressure it put you under. You have to succeed, it’s in your family to succeed.”  
  
There’s a moment of silence. Lewis hears Nico softly exhale. “Thank you. It means a lot that you know how I feel. I understand how it is for you too – your dad works hard to make sure you race. I have no idea how it’s like to not have that privilege.”  
  
“I’m glad we understand each other.” Lewis says, softly. “And we’re still going to be best friends right?”  
  
“Of course.” Nico teases.

Lewis laughs. They talk for an hour about various different things; about Schumachers’s easy win in Germany, how school is going (brilliant for Nico, terrible for Lewis), Lewis’s new helmet and Nico’s extended family been over in Monaco. Lewis lays back and listens to Nico’s soft voice complaining about having to move into one of the guest rooms.   
He glances at the Senna poster above his bed. He wonders if he and Nico will get to the same level as Senna, if they will share the same podiums, if they will hug each other, their skin smeared in champagne and sweat. He feels his eyelids dropping. Nico stops talking when he hears a familiar sound, faint breathing filters through the telephone.  
  
He smiles. “Goodnight Lewis. Sweet dreams. Hope I see you again soon.”  
  
He hangs up, clutching the phone at his chest for a second. He moves over to the window and leans on the windowsill, looking out towards the harbour. He thinks about the coming year, about Lewis, about holding caramel coloured fingers, about the faint smell of Lynx and sweat, about the gap in Lewis’s two front teeth. It takes Nico about two hours to go to sleep.

 

* * *

 

  
They don’t see one another again until the day they test the new karts they will be driving for the season. Lewis yanks on the collar of his uncomfortable new race overalls; they’re made of Nomex and they itch. Not to mention, they look ridiculous; black with horizontal white stripes all over. Lewis thinks he looks like a zebra. He glances at himself in the mirror, a frown line on his nose.  
  
“Hey, you look gorgeous.” A familiar, deep voice teases.  
  
Lewis spins around and comes face to face with his childhood best friend. Nico looks good, he’s taller by another couple of inches (Lewis probably reaches his shoulder and he immediately hates that fact.) His blonde hair is fluffy and long, curling around his ears. He’s wearing the same overalls as Lewis, something that makes something in Lewis’s chest wrench, and he looks great in them. Nico is maturing and blossoming into a young man. Lewis shakes his head almost to dispel his own thoughts.  
  
“Nico!” He yells excitedly, throwing his arms around the German’s neck. Nico laughs against Lewis, bringing his arms to rest around Lewis’s waist.  
  
“How have you been, man?” Lewis asks, not wanting to pull away from Nico.  
  
“Great,” Nico replies gently. “I can’t believe we’re here together doing this.” There’s a strange fluttering in his chest – a sudden warmth that he has never felt before. He eyes Lewis fondly.  
  
However, the two teenagers are soon interrupted by the arrival of Dino.  
  
“So I see that you’ve both met one another. Saves me the embarrassment of making introductions.” He teases, his tone light-hearted as the two teenager wretch themselves apart, blush dancing over their cheeks.

 

* * *

 

Nico straps himself into his new kart, making some minor adjustments. He glances over at Lewis who is carefully slipping his helmet on – it’s the same one as he always wears – sunburst yellow, like Senna’s. There’s a knot in his stomach and he feels oddly more nervous than usual.  
  
The kart starts up like a dream. Nico feels himself smile as he pulls away from the pits. He pulls the kart through the first chicane, feeling it cruise over the tarmac easily. There’s a long straight after the first turn which he weaves into, to get a feel for the track with the new kart. It glides fairly smoothly into the next corner. Nico grins, he’s looking forward to racing with this kart this year. His dad hadn’t been too pleased at first that he wanted to stay in karts.  
  
“What do you mean, you want to kart for another year? That’s not what we agreed, Nico!” Keke snapped at his son.  
  
Nico huffed. “Dad, I’m not ready to go into Formula Three. I want to be successful…but not off your back. I want to be successful in my own right.”  
  
“That’s understandable. Doesn’t explain why you want to languish in karts for another year when you could be getting a name for yourself.”  
  
“Did you listen to a word I just said, Dad?” Nico spat. “I don’t need to get a name for myself. Rosberg is already well known.”  
  
“Nico, I only want the best for you.”  
  
“I know that, dad. But you need to let me get to the best of my game on my own.”  
  
Keke doesn’t argue after that. But he doesn’t look particularly happy about the situation. He’s sitting in the garage, feet propped up on the dashboard, mouth set in a thin line. Nico is so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice the slightly wet patch of track just before the entrance to the pits. The soft tyres on his kart don’t grip the damp track and he loses control of the kart. He tries to correct the over-steer but he spins off, hitting the tyre barrier with a crash.   
Nico leans back in his seat, giving his heart a moment to slow down. He hits the steering wheel in a moment of anger, he knew that it had been raining over the past few hours and parts of the Italian circuit were wet. He glances over the nose of the kart, it’s completely crumpled. He’s managed to ruin the kart on his first ever test drive. His dad is going to go crazy.  
  
However, before Nico can unstrap himself from the kart, he hears the familiar sound of squealing tyres failing to grip the track properly. He barely has time to glance behind him as Lewis in the sister kart, drives over the same damp patch before the pits and loses control of the kart. He fails to bring it back under control and it slams into Nico’s kart at the crash barrier. Their karts are side by side. Lewis and Nico glance at each other and they do the only thing they can do in that situation, they laugh.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe we both slipped on the same damp patch. My dad chewed me right out after you’d left.” Lewis laughs. They’re both sitting on the grass by the first chicane, their faces kissed by the sun. Both are still in their matching black and white overalls. Lewis’s foot is brushing against Nico’s thigh. Nico is trying to ignore the strange fuzzy sensation he feels from the touch.  
  
“My dad shouted at me too.” Nico says, quietly. “Said I should have gone straight into Formula Three.”  
  
“But then you’d be with all those stuffy serious Formula Three drivers and not with _me_.” Lewis says. The big grin is back on his face. He runs a hand over his face. He looks tired. Their karts are both ruined by the crash. Nico’s is the most damaged due to the secondary impact from Lewis. Both boys had climbed out of their karts sheepishly, back to the pits, back to their fathers who weren’t happy at their son’s racing decisions.  
  
“You’re tired. You should go back to the hotel and grab a couple of hours sleep.” Nico remarks, a touch of concern in his voice.  
  
Lewis shakes his head. “I’m okay. I’m hungry though. Fancy going for a pizza? I know a fantastic place.”  
  
Nico nods, shaking his head at Lewis’s stubborn streak.

 

The two teenagers end up in a little hole in the wall restaurant; Nico glances around at the tasteful, simple décor. It’s fairly quiet, there’s a few couples here and there dotted around. It’s calming after the drama a few hours before.

“Didn’t know you were capable of finding a nice little pizza place.” Nico teases.  
  
Usually, it’s Nico dragging Lewis to various different places; in Monaco, Lewis just follows Nico around to the best cafes and ice cream parlours. (Last time, they had sat on the steps outside and savoured the vanilla ice cream. Nico fought the urge to wipe the iced dessert from where it had dripped down Lewis’s chin.)  
Lewis doesn’t respond. He gives the German a small smile and orders two pizzas. (Margarita for Nico and meat feast for himself.)  
  
“I spent a lot of time in Italy. I missed my mum and I found that this place makes them almost as good as she does.”  
  
Nico feels a stab of sympathy for Lewis. He looks tired, his hair is still super-short, there’s dark circles under his eyes and his race overalls look a little baggier than usual.  
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nico asks, his voice barely a whisper.  
  
“I’m fine…I guess everything is just catching up with me. I still have loads of school work to do and Dino wants me to do a lot more practise with the kart in preparation for the new season. I don’t know…how do you do it?”  
  
“Private tutor.” Nico shrugs.  
  
Lewis practically deflates. “Well, I can’t do that.” He looks down at the table.  
  
“Hey,” Nico reaches across the table and grazes Lewis’s fingers. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, you can let your guard down with me. We’re friends remember?” He tangles their fingers together.  
  
Lewis stares at their entwined hands. “I know, I just…it’s how I’m built you know? All my life I’ve been bullied for not been good enough, not been tall enough, not been _white_ enough-“  
  
Nico bites his lip. “And now you’re going to let them win? You’re going to run yourself into the ground. That’s not the Lewis I know.”  
  
Lewis gives Nico a small smile. It’s one of his genuine ones, not the big ear to ear grins he usually spots and puts on for the audience and for the people who don’t really know him.  
  
“You’re right, Nico.”  
  
“Of course, I’m right. I’m German. I’m always right.” Nico smiles back as Lewis kicks his shin under the table. He pretends not to notice when Lewis doesn’t move his foot back and keeps it pressed against his shin.  
  
Their pizzas arrive. Lewis looks at Nico and grabs his first slice, shoving it into his mouth. Nico watches open mouthed as Lewis slops tomato sauce down his overalls as the slice of pizza slowly disappears. Nico suddenly twigs. Lewis’s dark eyes are dancing, there’s a glint of something – almost daring Nico to rise to the challenge. Nico does. He seizes a slice of his own pizza and shoves it quickly into his mouth, ignoring the slight burning of his tongue. He winces as a string of hot cheese slips down his chin.  
  
Nico and Lewis do not think about the ruined karts sitting in the garages a few feet away. They do not think about their fathers standing over their karts, disappointment on their faces. The only thing that matters right now to the two fifteen year olds is beating each other at eating pizza. Their laughing echoes through the pizza place.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you ruined the kart on its first practise run, Lewis. You should have been more careful.” Anthony snarls. Lewis folds his arms, looking defiant. There used to be a time when he would hang on his father’s every word but he’s growing up now and he’s used to racing his way.  
  
“I knew what I was doing, Dad. It’s not my fault that there was a small wet patch on the track.”  
  
“Yes, you still managed to drive through it! I know what this is actually all about…it’s about you and that Rosberg lad, isn’t it? You were driving too fast to impress him, to beat him.”  
  
Lewis raises an eyebrow. “Dad, this has nothing to do with Nico…”  
  
“ _Nico_ , huh? You two sure got close recently.”  
  
“Dad, we’ve been friends since we were six. You’re friends with Keke…besides, why would Nico be impressed with my driving? His father is a _World Champion_. I wanted to see how fast the kart would go…since you know I’ll be _racing_.” Lewis pauses, watching his father’s gritted teeth and his clenched fists. He knows he wants to give him a slap and he’s probably well without his rights to do so, but Lewis isn’t going down without a fight.  
  
“I’m just disappointed, son. You know how much money it costs to be in this division and you just crash your kart on the first try. It’s okay for people like _Rosberg_ to do that, they have loads of money-“  
  
“Dad, please stop making out that I’m at such a disadvantage due to my background that I can’t do what other drivers do and I have to be cautious. That’s not the way you taught me to drive and I’m not about to start now.”  
  
Anthony looks like he wants to argue but he can’t seem to find the words.  


Lewis stomps away from the motorhome again, something which is becoming a regular occurrence. He doesn’t mean to argue with his father, he just wants to race without anyone getting in the way. He kicks at a few loose stones along the path, the sun is beating down on his back and he regrets not grabbing a shirt from the motorhome before he stormed out. He’d been changing out of his overalls when his father had almost pulled the door off its hinges.  
  
He feels trapped; there’s a dull ache in his chest, he misses his old kart, he misses the dent in the front wing he’d done in Monaco, the scratched 44 he’d made into the chassis on the first race he’d ever won. His kart is back in England and he hates the fact that he can’t just pull it out of the trailer and go around the track for a few laps. He’s sick of Italy, he’s sick of eating pizza and of the sweat constantly dripping down his back, he wants to see dark storm clouds and cold rain.  
  
“Hey, Lewis.” A familiar voice calls out. Lewis feels his heart sink.  
  
Usually, he’d love to see Nico but right now, he’s just not in the mood to speak to the German. He tugs his hat low over his eyes, he can feel the pinprick of damp – of tears – and Lewis feels a flush of embarrassment over his cheeks. He hasn’t cried in so long – probably the first time he ever lost a race. It feels strange but he welcomes it strangely. Italy seems to be getting to him. He misses home, he misses his mum and fish and chips and smoky London air.  
  
“Hey Nico, man, do you think I could just have five minutes on my own?” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence. He catches a glimpse of his childhood friend – all perfect blonde curls, thin red t-shirt clinging to his slim body. He’s clutching that bloody unicycle in his hands.  
  
“Lewis…are you okay?” Nico asks, his voice is gentle but it’s not gentle enough. Lewis bites back a laugh. He wants to spin around and scream at Nico that everything is not okay, he doesn’t know if he can do _this_.  
  
“Listen, man, can you just do as I bloody say for five seconds? I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to talk to anybody.”  
  
“Your dad wasn’t happy with the crash.” Nico says quietly and Lewis hates him in that moment, reliable Nico, he can read Lewis like a book. His icy blue eyes seem to burn a hole through Lewis.  
  
Lewis can’t stop the words once they fall out of his mouth. “No, he was pissed off that I crashed and he said that I should have been paying more attention to the track instead of trying to impress _you_.”  
  
Nico flinches. Lewis continues, “I thought he was wrong at first, I thought that we could still be friends despite our differences. But there’s times I hate you and I’m jealous of you…I mean, you live in Monaco, your dad’s practically Formula One royalty. You attend races all over the world and eat the best gourmet food in the world. I mean, you wouldn’t even be here with me if your dad had his own way. You’re destined for Formula One, to race and I hate you for having that privilege.”  
  
Nico says nothing. He knows Lewis has to get all his anger and frustration out.  
  
“But at the same time, I can’t hate you because you’re my best friend and you’re the person who understands what immense pressure I’m under. And-“ he stops, his voice breaks. He’s so confused. He slips down the side of the wall, just to catch his breath and ignore the twisting sensation building in his stomach.  
  
Nico slides down next to him. His unicycle lays forgotten at their feet. He brushes his hand against Lewis’s fingers, almost tentatively, asking for permission. Lewis doesn’t fight back, he lets the German slide his arm around his bare shoulders. Nico bites his lip as Lewis leans into his touch ever so slightly, craving the comfort.  
“You know, and to think I was jealous of your life.” Nico says, his voice almost a whisper.  
  
Lewis doesn’t say anything, his hat still hiding his expression from view but Nico feels the sudden tense in his shoulders.   
  
“Why?” He asks, his voice hoarse and wet.  
  
“Because you have such a normal life…you’re absolutely brilliant at racing, you have so much natural talent and it’s something you’ve chose to do. I love racing but you know, being an only child and having a Formula One Champion as a father, I’m expected to go into the family business.” That comment earns him a chuckle from Lewis.  
He continues, feeling the tension drop out of the Brit’s shoulders as he continues speaking. “My whole life revolves around racing. That’s why I ask my dad if I can go to all the Grand Prix, it takes his mind off pushing me to my limit. I know my life is more comfortable than yours. I don’t know what it’s like to have my father work ten hour shifts just so I can have a spare part for my engine…I just want to be normal sometimes. That’s why I like spending time with you. When I am with you, I’m not Keke Rosberg’s son, I eat crappy noodles and I end up with mud on my overalls. I’m just _Nico_.”  
  
Lewis is quiet for a moment, almost mulling things over before he finally speaks.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“Me too.”  
  
The two teenagers remain in the same place for a few minutes, Lewis’s head drops onto Nico’s shoulder.  
  
“You know what would make this moment even better?” Lewis says, quietly. His voice is muffled by Nico’s overalls.  
  
“What?” Nico asks fondly.  
  
“I think we should get ice cream. I am so sick of pizza.”  
  
“As long as we get vanilla.” Nico replies, smiling at the slighter Brit resting on his shoulder. It’s almost like Lewis _should_ be there.


	8. 2000 (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Lewis decides to teach himself to do something Nico is an expert at. The two boys revel in summer and Nico marks Lewis as his, but only until his skin heals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So again, another chapter. The unicycle event did actually occur, according to an interview with Kuba. The rest, I'm not so sure about.  
> Enjoy!

**Germany, 2000**

 

They’re in Germany this weekend. It’s their first race as teammates. It is overcast and not too warm, Lewis shivers in his thin jumper as he watches Nico move around the campsite on his unicycle. He feels a flare of something curl up inside his chest – it feels like envy at how easy the German makes it look.  
  
Nico spots the Brit standing by his motorhome and changes direction, the wind ruffles his blonde curls. Lewis finds himself biting his lip as he watches his best friend. Nico is good at everything. Lewis hates the fact sometimes that Nico is better at cooking, better at speaking different languages (English, German, French, Italian and Spanish.) Nico is good at sewing the buttons back onto Lewis’s clothes, he’s excellent at gymnastics. Sometimes Lewis thinks that there is nothing Nico cannot do.  
  
“Hey Lewis.” Nico says, jumping off his unicycle with ease.  
  
Lewis raises an eyebrow. “Hey, Nico.” He ignores the gnawing sensation of dread building in his stomach. He never usually feels like this before a race. He wonders if it’s because he’s racing as part of a team and it’s not a nameless face in the other kart – it’s _Nico._  
  
“You okay? You look pale.” Nico has a touch of concern on his face.  
  
“I’m okay…I just…I guess I am a little nervous about the race today. I’m not used to racing as part of a team and I guess McLaren and Mercedes will be watching us.”  
  
Nico nods. “We try our best. We can’t do anything else.”  
  
Lewis doesn’t say anything else. Nico leads him back to their temporary accommodation for the day - a trailer they both share, to change into their overalls. Lewis follows the blonde haired German, the nausea never really goes away.

 

* * *

 

  
Lewis ends up winning the race, comfortably. However, he has a minor scare when his tyres lock up at the chicane in turn three and Nico, it _has_ to be Nico, gains an extra second on him. Lewis can see the shiny black helmet in his mirrors. He can hear Nico, almost – his tyres make a distinctive sound. Lewis likes to imagine he can hear the brake pedal easing slightly and the gearstick moving up a notch.   
  
He throws himself into Nico’s arms after the race. Nico’s face lights up, a warm smile stretches across his face as he wraps his arms around Lewis’s waist. They bounce up and down for a moment; after all, in that moment, they are still children, they have no responsibilities and Nico is just happy that Lewis won and that the karts are performing well. He bites back the thread of disappointment that he feels when he crosses the line in second place. It doesn’t linger as he feels Lewis’s arms clasp around his neck, his smile, currently in braces directed at him. Nico watches the dark brown eyes never leave his face and he smiles back.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Nico?” They’re sat up on the grass by the second chicane this time, the sun is setting and it casts an almost ethereal glow. Their helmets lay by the side. Nico glances up at Lewis from where he is lying on the grass – the winner of the race is sitting up, knees pulled in, casting his eye over the circuit. There’s still people milling around – there’s a few hanging around in the pit lane, checking over the karts before they’re locked up for the night. Most, however, are in the food and drink area. A cloud of chatter rises up and the smell of fried food permeates the air.  
  
“Yeah?” Nico asks, his blue gaze not wavering.  
  
“We just raced in the European Championships of Formula A. I never thought we were going to get here.” Lewis whispers, his eyes still focused on the track.  
  
“We didn’t just race, Lewis. You _won_.” Nico reminds him fondly.  
  
“I know, I rang my mum and told her. She’s really proud.”  
  
Nico doesn’t reply. He just keeps looking up at Lewis. From this angle, his hair is almost golden-black, he seems to glow in the fading sunlight.  
  
“I’m just glad that I get to do it with you.” Lewis continues. “I feel so blessed…if I don’t get to Formula One, I’ll know that I gave it my best with the best person I could-“  
  
“We will get to Formula One, Lewis. Before you know it, we’ll be overtaking Hakkinen and Schumacher.”  
  
Lewis laughs, brushing his fingers gently against his helmet – the yellow of Senna – “You mean, crashing into them in the pit lane?”  
  
Nico watches Lewis’s fingers dance across the surface of his helmet.

They end up back at the trailer; their overalls sweaty and scratchy and pulled down to their waists. Lewis is laughing, half-drunk off his own success, his arm still wrapped around Nico’s shoulders. They trundle up the steps, still giggling to themselves. Lewis trips over Nico’s unicycle when he enters through the door, Nico tries not to laugh as Lewis, in a very ungraceful fashion, ends up with his legs tangled in the wheel of the unicycle.  
  
“Fuck.” He says, a bubble of laughter leaves his lips.  
  
“You need to be more careful.” Nico replies, trying not to smirk at Lewis still crumpled in a heap on the floor.  
  
“You need to stop riding things meant for clowns, man.” Lewis giggles.  
  
Nico raises an eyebrow at Lewis’s comment. “Then maybe you should have a try of my clown transport tomorrow.” He says it in such a way, he knows that Lewis will accept the challenge – Lewis is never one to back down from a challenge, he never has and he never will.  
  
As expected, Lewis glances at him, eyes dark with intent. “Tomorrow, I’ll be riding around on that thing like I’m in the circus.”  
  
Nico shakes his head, knowing it best not to argue with the Brit as he offers his hand to help pull Lewis out of the hold of the unicycle.

 

* * *

 

  
Nico stands over by the door to the trailer the next morning. Lewis is out in the warm morning sunshine, wearing what looks like one of Nico’s t-shirts and a pair of ratty old jeans. He is clutching Nico’s unicycle in one hand and it keeps jumping up to try and sit on the seat. However, he keeps sliding off and losing his balance.   
Nico rubs the sleep from his eyes and sips at his glass of lemon water as he watches the Brit try to balance on the unicycle. Lewis doesn’t seem to realise he has to climb onto the seat carefully as not to disturb the wheel.  
  
“Harder than it looks, isn’t it?” He shouts out.  
  
Lewis pauses, glancing up at the German, leaning triumphantly on the door jamb, his face looks smug.  
  
“I just need a little momentum to propel myself onto the seat, that’s all.” Lewis says between deep breaths.  
  
“Did you know you’re wearing my shirt?”  
  
Lewis looks down at his shirt and smirks. “Just picked up the first one I found on the floor, wondered why it was so baggy, you have huge shoulders, man.”  
  
“You do your own laundry next time.” Nico states, taking another sip of his drink.  
  
Lewis sticks out his tongue.  
  
“How long have you been trying?” Nico asks, he sits down on the doorstep of the trailer.   
It’s interesting watching Lewis and his sheer determination, his will to succeed makes Nico feel warm inside. He watches his friend fondly as he makes attempt after attempt to climb onto the unicycle, watching how the determined glint in Lewis’s dark eyes never deteriorates.  
  
Nico is about to shout out some advice to the Brit but Lewis shoots him with a warning look. “Ten minutes…and I don’t want any hints. I said I was going to master this thing. If you can do it, I can do it.”  
  
He holds up his hands, watching with an amused look on his face until Lewis misjudges a jump and crashes to the floor, the unicycle tangled around his legs once more.  
Nico jumps up straight away. “Lewis, are you alright?”  
  
Lewis sits up and Nico notices the faint blush across his cheeks. “I’m okay. My back hurts a little.” He looks winded.  
  
Nico shakes his head. “Don’t injure yourself just for the sake of proving a point.”  
  
“I’m not proving a point,” Lewis grins. “I’m going to learn to ride this damn clown thing.”  
  
And the way Lewis says it, Nico believes him.

 

Two hours later, Nico returns from the debrief with his father on yesterday’s race to find Lewis weaving his way around the trailer park pathways, like he’s been riding a unicycle all his life. He looks at ease, there’s a huge grin of triumph on his face. Nico merely raises an eyebrow at him in his attempt to look nonchalant.  
  
“Two hours and ten minutes.” Lewis says, euphoric. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he’s still wearing Nico’s t-shirt.  
  
“Still think it’s something just for clowns?”  
  
Lewis shakes his head. “No. I definitely need one of my own though. It’s so much faster than walking.”  
  
They both laugh.

 

* * *

 

They’re in Germany again. Lewis likes Germany, it holds a sense of familiarity. It’s not too warm and not too cold, it reminds him more of home than any other European country he has visited. It’s overcast and cloudy. Lewis over-steers into the first corner ever so slightly and bites his lip at the sudden shudder of the kart floor beneath him. He corrects his mistake quickly, angling his kart to the left into the next chicane. He grips his steering wheel tightly, there’s a hole in one of his driving gloves and the skin is rubbing on the hard leather.  
  
He presses down on the accelerator as he turns onto the long straight of the track, easing off before he brakes into the next corner. He misses the apex, his tyres skim onto the grass. He curses under his breath as he rides with the sudden jolting forces; his kart is so low to the ground that he can feel every slight jolt, every bump in the track. He doesn’t mind them; he uses them for braking references. Lewis hums under his breath as he shoots off into the next weave, he spots his father standing by the side of the track and immediately brakes. However, seemingly out of nowhere, a familiar black and orange striped kart appears behind him. _Nico._  
  
Lewis smirks as Nico tries to cut him down on the inside – Lewis knows that the next chicane turns in his favour and that he can shut Nico out. Lewis can almost hear the muttered German curses as he spins through the next chicane, holding the kart tightly to the apex. He seems to go sideways on the next turn but Nico doesn’t seem to take advantage of this.  
  
However, down the long straight, Nico seems to accelerate, Lewis can almost hear his accelerator pedal held flat to the floor. He shifts into first gear and eases up on the brakes. He positions his car slightly to the left, knowing that the first corner is angled to the left and he may be able to beat Nico into the tight corner if he brakes late. He glances at Nico, who is wheel to wheel with the sister kart. Nico doesn’t glance back, he’s in the zone. Lewis glances back at the track, he spots the braking reference he’s been using on the next corner and delays it by a second. It works. Slamming on the brakes, he whips into the first corner, edging out Nico by a millimetre. They make no contact but the way Lewis’s heart is beating madly in his chest, you’d think that they had.  
  
Lewis wins the race, easily. But Nico is right behind him. He pulls off his helmet, wide white grin spread across his face.  
  
“Are you sure that you’re not related to James Hunt?” Nico teases, afterwards. Lewis’s arm is wrapped around his waist, drawing circles into the scratchy Nomex.  
  
“Nah, man. I don’t have time for girls.” Lewis fires back, showing off his trademark grin. The metal of his braces glint in the sunlight. Nico feels dizzy just looking at the Brit. He wonders what Lewis means.  


* * *

 

Nico and Lewis are given a hotel room in Portugal by the team. Something about wanting their drivers to have a proper rest. They offered the boys separate rooms, but they both insisted one was enough. They both glance at each other excitedly as they are shown to their room. There’s a huge double bed in the middle of the room; the doors to the balcony are open, showcasing Estoril before them. A jumble of whitewashed buildings sit across the bay, the beautiful boats float in the harbour. It’s nothing as elaborate or as impressive as Monaco but it’s beautiful to look at. Lewis toes off his shoddy Nikes and collapses onto the bed, face first.  
  
“This is the life.” He mutters into the soft cotton sheets.  
  
Nico chuckles. “My bed at home is better than this.”  
  
“And here I thought your bed at home was one of those ones shaped like a Ferrari.” Lewis teases, shifting onto his side.  
  
“Fuck you.” Nico snaps back, smiling  
  
“Hey, Nico?” Lewis asks, his eyes are dark. “Can you believe we’re in a hotel and we’re racing? We got this big arse bed all to ourselves. We can even order room service.”  
Nico laughs. He’s had room service plenty of times before but the excited grin on Lewis’s face at the prospect make him hold back that information.  
  
“You know what else we can do?” Nico says, smirking as he stalks towards the bed.  
  
“What?” Lewis asks, confused.  
  
Nico doesn’t respond, he throws himself on top of Lewis, wrestling his face into the soft cotton sheets. Lewis wriggles in an attempt to break free of the German’s iron grip on his t-shirt, he hooks a leg over Nico’s back and tugs – pushing Nico down onto the sheets next to him. Nico giggles and twists his arm to press against Lewis’s leg that is keeping him locked in place.  
  
Lewis doesn’t budge for the first few seconds, he merely grins at Nico, a smirk dancing across his lips. “Do you surrender?” He asks.  
  
Nico surges upwards, pulling himself free of Lewis’s legs and rugby tackles Lewis into the mattress; Lewis falls on his back and Nico falls on top of him, pinning them into place. Lewis glances up at Nico, the curl of blonde hair tickles the German’s cheeks and his blue eyes are unusually dark. Nico grins and Lewis feels something stir in his thigh. He ignores it as he tries to break free of his best friend’s iron grip.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Lew. I finished with the shower if you want to-“ Nico steps out of the shower, towelling his blonde hair as he shouts to his teammate.  
  
However, he gets no answer. Nose wrinkled in confusion, he pads across the cool tiles of their hotel room towards the balcony. He is about to give Lewis a mouthful about not listening when he stops and looks at the Brit. Lewis is lying on one of the sun loungers, wearing nothing but a pair of bright white swim shorts. The headphones in his ears are blaring out some sort of garage tune; (it’s tinny and it sounds like crap to Nico’s cultured ears.)   
He’s fast asleep, his dark eyelashes hiding the brown eyes Nico is so used to seeing. Nico isn’t used to seeing Lewis sleep at all – the Brit is an early riser like himself, utterly dedicated to getting out on the track and testing his kart. He looks quite peaceful and Nico doesn’t want to wake him – especially not since he noticed the dark circles underneath Lewis’s eyes. His skin is beginning to darken ever so slightly in the sun. Nico catches sight of the bottle of suncream and smirks.  
  
Squirting out the sticky substance onto his fingers, he pauses for a moment before he writes his initials onto Lewis’s caramel coloured skin. He fights the urge to laugh as Lewis frowns in his sleep at the sudden cold touch to his hip. Nico stands back and surveys his handiwork; the letters NR glare back at him in white cream on the surface of Lewis’s hip, marking him as Nico’s.  
  
  


“Nico, you fucking arsehole!” Lewis yells. Nico smirks and looks up from the book he was reading.  
  
“What’s the matter, Lew?” He asks nonchalantly. He turns over the page and does not look up at his best friend.  
  
“Don’t ignore me! You know what you did.” Nico hears the slight whine in his voice and the smirk remains on his lips. He glances up at Lewis slowly, pulling his attention away from his book. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
“Right, because you’re the only other person in this room and now I somehow have NR _burnt_ into my hip. Thanks arsehole.”  
  
“You are always going on about how you want a tattoo, Lew.”  
  
Lewis sticks up his middle finger as he walks past Nico and goes on the hunt for the bottle of aloe vera – Nico’s fair skin means that it gets used often, even when he’s wearing SPF30.  
  
“It’s on the side.” Nico yells.  
  
Lewis emerges from the bathroom, holding the bottle, triumphant. He has a towel in his hand that he throws at Nico’s head. Nico smiles and pulls the towel away, marking his place in his book. He places it on the side and rolls over, glancing at Lewis. The Brit is still clad in his white shorts, he is carefully rubbing the cooling gel into his slightly reddened skin. He winces every so often. Nico watches him for about a minute before he stands up and grabs the bottle from the Brit.  
  
“You’ve missed the worse part of your hip.” He says gently, he squeezes out a little of the blue gel, sweeping it across Lewis’s smooth skin.  
  
He feels a smirk dance along the corners of his mouth as he notices the pale golden NR standing out on Lewis’s hip, almost like a brand.  
  
“I can’t believe you wrote your initials on me, you could have drawn a dick or something. But no, you chose your own name.”  
  
“Of course.” Nico says, his voice full of confidence.  
  
Lewis throws his head back and laughs. Nico feels a touch of something – a rush of happiness at the sight of his initials on Lewis’s hip, as though they’re supposed to be there on the Brit. However, his thoughts do not last long as Lewis rugby tackles him again, digging his fingers in the German’s hipbones. Nico squirms, laughing and watching the dying sunlight light up the golden undertones in Lewis’s hair.

 

* * *

 

Nico wakes up, having fallen asleep watching some gameshow on the television. It was in Italian and it made Nico’s head swim. It’s late evening and the sun has disappeared, leaving the sky to darken slowly. Nico glances around the room, a blanket falls from his chest. The lamp next to the bed is switched on and the door to the balcony is open, lightly blowing the drapes open. Nico pushes himself out of the bed and pads across the cool tiles to the balcony. He smiles, watching Lewis leaning on the iron railings, looking over the harbour. The lights shine softly, reflecting in the water. Lewis has a book in his hand and he’s half concentrating on it, half on the scene before him.  
  
“Was I asleep long?” Nico asks.  
  
Lewis jolts ever so slightly at the sudden voice but he corrects himself; he turns around, giving Nico a small smile.  
  
“Nah, just about an hour I think…you looked tired so I wanted to just let you sleep. I came out here to watch the sunset, it’s quite peaceful here.”  
  
Nico nods and moves towards the railings. “What are you reading?” He asks, his voice still soft and heavy with sleep.  
  
Lewis holds out his book, it’s one about Senna. Nico smiles and shakes his head. “Who else would you read about?”  
  
Lewis smiles back. “It’s quite interesting really…I can’t believe we met him.”  
  
“That was hilarious. We were six and you wanted to go and hug his legs.”  
  
Nico swears he sees a slight blush dance over Lewis’s cheeks. “Like there’s not a racing driver you wanted to hug the legs of when you were a kid.”  
  
“Racing driver dad, remember?”  
  
“I can’t believe your dad didn’t let you go and say hi to any of the drivers.”  
  
“Except Mika.” Nico says, defensively.  
  
“Mika’s practically your uncle, Nico.” Lewis teases.  
  
Nico gives him a glare. He notices the NR still emblazoned on Lewis’s unclothed hip, the skin looks darker.  
  
“He gave me my first ever beer, I was about ten and he just handed me half of the can he’d just drunk.” Nico remarks, a smile curling around his lips once more.  
  
“Seriously?” Lewis giggles. “I wish I had interesting stories like you to tell. I think the most interesting thing that happened to me was the time I bumped into David Coulthard and told him he had the worst jumper I had ever seen on…I think I was about ten. My dad managed to get us paddock tickets to the British Grand Prix. I wanted to see Schumacher but my dad ended up in the Williams garage. Coulthard had this mustard yellow jumper on, it was hideous.”  
  
Nico chuckles. “See, you’ve met more racing drivers than me.”  
  
“I doubt that, somehow, Nico. Anyway…you fancy watching Canadian qualifying…I think it’s on at the moment.”  
  
Both boys move back into the hotel room, closing the door behind them. Lewis flops on the bed, Nico sits next to him. Their hips and their fingers brush together but neither boy moves away. They watch the qualifying intently. Schumacher wins.

 

* * *

 

Nico is awoken a second time. The room is pitch black – a sure sign that it’s the middle of the night – Nico doesn’t want to check his watch and find out – Lewis isn’t asleep, Nico can tell as the room isn’t filled with the sound of soft breathes. Lewis’s breaths are ragged and disjointed. Nico raises an eyebrow and shifts closer to the Brit.  
  
“Lewis, are you okay?” He asks softly, his hand lands on Lewis’s shoulder.  
  
Lewis is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he’s shivering ever so slightly. His hair is mussed from the humidity. He stiffens at Nico’s hand on his back.  
  
“I’m fine, Nico. Go back to sleep.” His voice sounds ragged, it cracks slightly.  
  
Nico moves closer to the Brit. “I’m not going back to sleep until you tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
“Nico, I-“  
  
“Lewis.” Nico says his name with such finality. Lewis turns over ever so slightly, his eyes are dark with emotion and they’re watery.  
  
“I’m just worried about the race, it’s nothing. I’ll be fine tomorrow.” He says, his voice barely a whisper.  
  
“It’s not just the race is it?” Nico whispers back, his chest hits Lewis’s back.  
  
“Well…I’m just worrying about stupid stuff. I just wonder if I lose the race and if McLaren decide I’m not worth backing and then we won’t be able to afford being in racing anymore. I want to race. It’s the only thing I am good at.”  
  
Nico’s heart breaks at Lewis’s last words. He gently places an arm around Lewis’s midsection, pulling the slighter Brit towards him for comfort. Lewis bites his lip as Nico’s arms wrap around his stomach, his hands are warm and soft. Nico’s lightly muscled chest presses against Lewis’s back, Lewis can feel Nico’s heartbeat thudding up against his ribs. Nico has the sort of calming effect on him, he leans back into Nico’s hold, his cheeks colouring red.  
  
“You’re not just good at racing, Lewis.” Nico says, his voice is gentle and soft.  
  
His finger gently rubs up against Lewis’s hip – where the NR is – Lewis tries to ignore the feeling in his boxer shorts. “You’re fantastic at racing, you make everybody laugh with your humour, you are good at karate and boxing and cooking pasta and finding the best places to eat. You’re my best friend, Lewis.”  
  
Lewis stays silent for a moment. “But why? You have such cooler friends than me.”  
  
“But none of them care about me, Lewis. They just care about beating me in front of my father…and the others just want to come to my swimming pool. You don’t care about any of that, you never have. You just want to race and that’s what I admire most about you.”  
  
“I don’t care about your house in Monaco, you’re right. I don’t care about making you look bad, I don’t want you to look bad. I just want to win. I just care about you…you’re one of the first friends I had that didn’t judge me. The first who understands the will to win.”  
  
“The will to win.” Nico repeats. “It’s something that most people don’t understand…most avoid me because my dad’s a Formula One champion. They don’t give me a chance. They just judge me based on what my dad has done.”  
  
There is a slight pause. “Whereas most people don’t give me the time of day because my dad is not in racing. So either way, we’re screwed.”  
  
Nico lets out a small laugh and moves closer to Lewis. “Now go the fuck to sleep, Hamilton. You need all your beauty sleep, ready to eat some dust tomorrow.” Nico says, finally. He doesn’t move away from Lewis.  
  
Lewis laughs. “It’s you who needs the beauty sleep, Princess. So you can get up early enough to make sure your hair is perfect underneath your helmet tomorrow.”  
  
“Go to sleep you idiot.” Nico repeats. And Lewis quickly does, falling into a deep doze, still held tightly by his best friend. Nico drops off just as quickly, snuggling his face into Lewis’s bare shoulder as his eyelids fall shut.  
  
The two teenagers, wrapped up in a bed in Portugal sleep through the night, curled together tightly as though there are two parts of a jigsaw puzzle coming together. Their helmet sit side by side on the desk in front of them, ready for the race tomorrow. The two boys sleep on, the moon shines brightly.


	9. 2000 (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis and Nico continue to race through the season. Lewis has the first major blow to his confidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big warning in this chapter for racial abuse.  
> Lewis has spoken several times of the hardships he's faced in karting so this chapter is mainly to highlight this.  
> Enjoy!

They’re in Monaco for the next race. Lewis walks around the harbour, taking in the pristine expensive yachts. He shivers in his thin jumper – Nico said he had been warm in Monaco for the last week and Lewis had, in his infinite wisdom, only packed for hot weather. Monaco hasn’t changed much from the last time he was here – it seems to look bigger than last time, everything is more expensive, shinier, and more grandiose. Monaco is a place where is no such thing as excess. Lewis pauses and leans on the railings, glancing over the harbour.   
He remembers the last time he was here; sweat drenching his too-big t-shirt, Senna pressing the lanyard into his hand, his dark brown eyes looking into Lewis’s own. His final thought is of Nico’s blue eyes.  
  


Lewis is whizzing around the camping area on his unicycle (His father had finally caved and bought him a cheap one from a guy he knew – it was rusty and old but Lewis loved it nevertheless.) He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the wind ruffle his hair and ghost over his face.  
However, the feeling doesn’t last for long.  
  
“Hey, partner.” Nico is suddenly next to him on his own unicycle. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of blue and black shorts. Lewis feels severely overdressed.  
  
“When did you get here?”  
  
“About ten minutes ago. Dad wanted to park the car perfectly.”  
  
Lewis laughs and keeps pedalling, increasing his speed ever so slightly. Nico raises an eyebrow and picks up his speed too. The two teenagers bomb around the footpath as fast as they can pedal. They glance over at one another every so often. Lewis focuses on the track ahead, he imagines he’s sitting in his kart in his race overalls.  
It’s the same principle right now, except he’s wearing a dusty old t-shirt and Nico is racing him – it’s a familiar sensation of late – Lewis glances at Nico, he’s got a determined glint in his eyes, his jaw is set – Lewis can see the sheer determination on the German’s face.  
Lewis veers off onto the grass slightly and Nico smirks at the Brit’s temporary loss of concentration.  
  
“I’m going to beat you, Lew.” Nico states as they pedal.  
  
“You’ll be eating my dust in a moment, Rosberg.” Lewis fires back, he can feel his lungs beginning to tire, the familiar wetness underneath his shirt – damp sweat.  
  
“You Brits are so overly confident.” Nico shouts out as he starts to pull ahead.  
  
“And you Germans think you know everything about racing.” Lewis states, as he pulls some extra energy from somewhere – his calves are starting to burn.  
  
He misses the pedal and Nico pulls away as Lewis loses his balance and crashes to the floor. Lewis looks up from the floor, dazed, blood trickles from a shallow cut near his hairline. He glances up at Nico, who has stopped and is glancing at the Brit, worry clinging to his features.  
  
“Are you okay?” He says, still balanced on his unicycle.  
  
Lewis nods and pushes a hand up to where he can feel wetness spreading over his face – his fingers come away red. He blinks once, confused.  
  
“My beautiful face is ruined, man. My modelling career is over.”  
  
Nico finds himself bursting into a peal of laughter. Lewis grins up at him from the floor, blood still trickling down onto his t-shirt.  
  
“What modelling career?” Nico remarks, pulling himself off his unicycle. He kneels next to the Brit.  
  
“Fuck you, man.” Lewis shows off the gap in his front teeth. “I’m going to be high in demand in a couple of years. I just need to grow a few inches.”  
  
“Don’t you have to be like 6ft to be a male model?” Nico teases. He watches as Lewis pulls off his ratty t-shirt and presses the cotton to his head to stem the bleeding.

Lewis shakes his head, smile still on his face. “You’re so lucky you’re pretty.”  
  
Nico tries to fight off the blush that spreads across his cheeks.

 

* * *

 

Lewis wins the race. He ends up overtaking Nico easily, going wheel to wheel with him as Nico did in the previous race. Lewis flies out of his kart in celebration; he jumps up and down, pumping his fist up in the air.  
  
Nico stands on the side-lines watching his best friend celebrate his win. Lewis has his helmet clutched in his arms – sunburst yellow – Nico watches Lewis glance at it every so often as he bounces around, celebrating his win. The win here means more to him than anywhere else – this is Monaco, this is Senna’s hunting ground. Nico understands that. He’s the only one who notices Lewis’s slightly glassy eyes, his fingers brushing against the yellow helmet, the one that looks just like his heroes.

“What a race.” Lewis says quietly. He and Nico are sitting by the harbour, watching the yachts glide through the water.  
  
“Well, you did win it.” Nico replies, he glances into the crystal waters. He smirks, tracing a pattern on the pavement before him.  
  
“I had a bet with Kubica that I would win the race so he owes me some money. We can go and order pizza if you want.”  
  
“I didn’t know you knew Kubica.” Nico says, ignoring the curl of jealousy rise up in his chest.  
  
“Yeah…I met him when I did a bit of karting in Germany. Drives like a fucking maniac…he’s testing Formula One cars now. Renault ones.”  
  
“Ron will have you testing McLaren cars in a couple of years.” Nico says, he’s confident that Lewis will succeed.  
  
“If I stop crashing his karts, man.” Lewis fires back, smiling.  
  
“Now that will never happen.” Nico remarks.  
  
“You’re in a sarcastic mood today, Rosberg.”  
  
“I know, Hamilton. I know. But I sleep better at night.” Nico says as he glances at his watch. “It’s getting late.”  
  
“We better get back to the hotel.”  
  
“Didn’t your dad tell you?” Nico asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Lewis looks blank. “Tell me about what?”  
  
“I’m staying at my own place...figured it was easier than staying in a hotel and I can sneak downstairs and eat lots of ice cream.”  
  
Lewis laughs. “That’s not fair, man. You’re eating ice cream without me.”  
  
“Then come with me and stay the night.” Nico says, shrugging.  
  
Lewis’s dark eyes go wide with surprise. “You mean, actually stay at the Rosberg mansion?”  
  
“It’s not a mansion, Lew.” Nico replies, rolling his eyes.

 

* * *

 

“This is _totally_ a mansion.” Lewis remarks as they pull up at the Rosberg residence. It’s evening and the house looks impressive, all lit up.  
  
Nico shakes his head as he unlocks the front door. Lewis runs ahead of him, jogging through the main entrance hall, his dirty Nikes beat against the shiny marble tiles. Nico walks quickly after the Brit. Lewis looks around him, eyes wide. His eyes fall on the large photographs of the Rosbergs sitting proudly on the walls. There’s Nico, no older than about ten in a black t-shirt and jeans, Keke and his mother at either side of him, big smiles on their faces. They’re all blonde, all tanned, all looking beautiful, healthy and happy.  
  
“The lounge is this way.” Nico says, leading Lewis towards the room. Lewis gasps as he enters the large room – huge leather sofas stand in the middle of the room, an enormous television is mounted on one wall. The French doors are open, allowing a slight breeze to blow through the drapes.  
  
“If I ever become a Formula One driver, this is so what my living room is going to look like.”  
  
“I thought you were going to have a hot-tub in your front room to watch sport in.” Nico teases, watching Lewis’s cheeks turn pink.  
  
“Decided it’s a bit too trashy. I’m not trashy.” Lewis fires back.  
  
“Nico, mein Liebling?” A voice calls from another room. Lewis looks confused, he knows that accent, it’s similar to Nico’s.  
  
“Mutter, ich bin im Wohnzimmer.” Nico says back, quickly.   
  
Lewis just stares at him. The way Nico speaks German sounds natural to the Brit, it’s almost as though Nico feels at ease, the vowels rolling from his tongue. Nico smirks a little as he watches his best friend’s face, Lewis seems to stare at Nico with a sense of wonder. However, their gazes are soon broken as Nico’s mother enters the lounge. “Nico, wo warst du? Ich-“ she stops, noticing Lewis standing next to the sofas.  
  
“Mother-“ Nico switches back to English, almost faultlessly but Lewis can’t help but think that the English language suits Nico far less than German does – he can feel the discomfort in how Nico pronounces his words – he takes more time.  
  
“This is Lewis Hamilton. He is my best friend and we’re teammates at MBM. He’s from England.”  
  
Nico’s mother steps forward and embraces Lewis. Lewis awkwardly wraps his hands around her waist. She is warm and smells like vanilla; Nico sometimes has a hint of it hanging around him. She pulls away and looks deep into Lewis’s eyes.  
  
Lewis stares back, feeling a thread of discomfort tug in his chest. There’s no doubt where Nico got his eyes from – his mothers are the same bright blue, yet hers are less almond shaped. Lewis also notes that Nico got his blonde hair from her. She wears it in an elegant twist, a few tendrils curling delicately around her face.  
  
“My name is Sina. It’s lovely to finally meet you. I’ve heard lots about you.”  
  
“You have?” Lewis asks, his cheeks turn red.  
  
“You are the one who loves Senna, aren’t you? The only one my Nico could not beat. He was a bit upset the first time, sulked for ages-“ Sina says, finally releasing the British teenager from her hold.  
  
“Mum-“ Nico cuts in.  
  
“Don’t interrupt me, Nico Erik Rosberg! Oh, yes, you should have seen him, he drew up these little plans and coloured them all in. Tried to get his dad to buy him a Ferrari. Said he had to beat Lewis next time.” Sina says, glancing over at her son fondly. Lewis bites back a laugh as he glances at Nico.  
Nico meets his gaze head on, his blue eyes icy.  
  
“I remember seeing you though when you were just a baby, Lewis. Your father was so proud of you. You were this tiny little thing and you had such powerful lungs. Keke held you and you threw up all down his race overalls. I couldn’t stop laughing at his face afterwards.”  
  
Lewis’s eyes are wide. He looks away from Nico.  
  
“Mum, I think I am going to show Lewis the pool. We want a swim.” Nico cut in to save anymore embarrassing stories been revealed.  
  
Sina smiles and hugs Lewis once more. “It was lovely to meet you.” She says, her accent is stronger than Nico’s – “If you need anything, just give me a shout.”  
  
“Thanks Mrs Rosberg.” Lewis replies, his face is pressed up against Sina’s shoulder.  
  
Nico ignores the tugging sensation in his chest.

 

* * *

 

Lewis lets a gasp as Nico leads him to the swimming pool. There’s a huge waterfall at one end, gently pouring a cascade of crystal clear water into the pool. “This is wicked, man.” Lewis says quietly.  
  
“Thanks, this is where I spent most of my holidays.” Nico replies. However, when he goes to glance at Lewis, the Brit has disappeared. He watches as Lewis runs towards the pool – still wearing all of his clothes – and dives into the water, letting out a whoop. “Night-time swim!”  
  
“Man, this feels good.” Lewis yells, floating in the water. “Hey, Nico, get your butt in here!”  
  
“I’d rather let you get wet.” Nico smirks.  
  
Lewis lets out a laugh. Nico tries not to look at the droplets of water clinging to the stubble on his best friend’s face.  
  
“Nico, man, don’t be so boring. Come on, get in here.” Lewis wheedles.  
  
Nico shakes his head, smiling. “The water is cold and I don’t want a cold before we race in a couple of days.”  
  
“I’ll make sure to give you a cold, Rosberg. Don’t you worry about that.” There’s a satisfied smirk on the Brit’s face.  
  
He climbs out of the swimming pool over next to where Nico is standing and stands next to the German, water dripping from his wet clothes all over Nico’s shoes. Nico wrinkles his nose in distaste.  
  
“Hey man. Don’t drip all over my shoes.” He scolds as Lewis smiles and pulls off his sodden t-shirt. Nico bites his lip as Lewis’s lightly muscled torso is revealed to him, his bronzed skin glows under the lights.  
  
“Serves you right for not joining me for a night time swim.” Lewis says, sticking his tongue out to the German.  
  
Nico raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t exactly sell the idea to me, Hamilton.”  
  
“Oh really?” The mischievous grin appears on Lewis’s face once more and he rugby tackles Nico, pulling him into the swimming pool.  
  
They both surface from the water; Nico coughs and splutters, his face is red and his blonde hair is darkened by the water, plastered to his forehead.  
  
“You idiot.” Nico splutters.  
  
Lewis lets out a laugh – the water clings to his skin, making it look even more golden. “Sorry, man, I just really wanted to do that.”  
  
Nico glares at Lewis; the look Lewis gives him in return is enough to make the German let out a peal of laughter. He looks so guilty, but amused at the same time.  
  
“I’d have jumped in if you’d have said we were racing each other.” Nico admits.  
  
“Point taken for next time.” Lewis replies, smiling. “It’s beautiful here…I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave anywhere else.” He swims over to the side and takes in the view.  
  
The Rosberg house sits on top of the hill, overlooking the famous Monaco harbour. The sky is inky blue. The lights twinkle below them, seeming to wink at the two teenagers.  
  
“It’s nice and relaxing for sure…but it can get quite lonely. There’s nobody to share this with-“  
  
“I can imagine. I’d get bored having nobody my own age to talk to.”  
  
“That’s why I am glad we’re teammates and we see more of each other. Most of my friends don’t understand why I race. They think that it is a waste of time.”  
  
“They’re idiots.” Lewis states. He turns and flicks water at Nico.  
  
Nico smirks and grabs hold of Lewis, dunking him under the water. He laughs as he lets go, allowing the Brit to surface.  
  
“You wanker.” Lewis yells as he surfaces, water clinging to his eyelashes.  
  
“You started it.” Nico says, fixing his best friend with a stare. Lewis shrugs and jumps out of the water to tackle Nico and hold him under.

The two teenagers tackle each other, trying to push each other under the water, they laugh into the night. Lewis swims over to the side to move away from the German, however, Nico follows and grabs hold of Lewis’s shoulders. Lewis turns around and stops. Nico realises how close their bodies are, his hands still brushing over Lewis’s arms; their stomachs are almost brushing.  
  
Lewis lifts his head slightly, his dark gaze never breaking contact with Nico. Nico bites his lip as he realises he can feel the ghost of Lewis’s breath across his face. He can see the droplets of water clinging to Lewis’s dark eyelashes and the slight dark stubble beginning to grow on Lewis’s cheeks. Lewis licks his lips.  
Nico freezes. Brown eyes stare into dazed blue. Lewis takes in the image of Nico - damp blonde hair beginning to curl around his ears, water is dripping down his dark eyebrows. A droplet clings to his lips, dark pink and open – Lewis feels his dick twitch inside his shorts.  
  
“Nico, I-“ He whispers, his gaze never wavering.  
  
Nico feels the brush of Lewis’s thigh against his own and panics. “Lew, I can’t do this, I’m sorry-“ He brushes past Lewis and out of the pool. Lewis follows, he’s aware of his own heartbeat, beating readily against his ribcage. He swims over to the side, intent on calming Nico down.  
  
“Nico wait!” He yells out, quickly scaling the ladders.  
  
However, it’s too late. Nico is gone. Lewis stands by the side of the patio shivering for a moment. He almost kissed Nico, he thinks. The lights of Monaco seem to mock him as they twinkle.

 

* * *

 

“Nico, Nico!” Lewis yells out in the paddock as he catches sight of a familiar set of black and white overalls. He races forward, intent on catching up to the blonde haired German.  
  
He grabs hold of Nico’s bicep, however, Nico shoves his hand away. Icy blue eyes glare at him, there’s a moment of silence between the two teammates. Lewis grinds his teeth. If Nico is going to ignore him, he’ll make the German notice him, the only way he can.  
  
Lewis pulls on his helmet, his gaze flicks over towards Nico. Nico doesn’t look at him. He has his head bowed, fixing the modifications on his kart. Lewis presses his foot down on the accelerator pedal, revving his kart into action. Nico’s head whips up. Lewis smirks in victory.

Lewis wins the race again. Nico ends up with brake failure.  
  
Nico doesn’t look at him as he lifts his hand to the sky in victory, showing a peace sign. It’s the first time that Lewis wins and Nico doesn’t hug him in celebration.

 

* * *

 

Nico ends up waiting outside his motorhome when he finally gets back, it takes longer when he wins. He hasn’t lost a race yet but he never gets tired of the excitement surrounding a win, everybody congratulating you. Most of the celebrations are half-hearted now as most of the kids he’s competing against haven’t found a way past him yet. He knows they resent him. He’s not supposed to be good, they’ve been destined for racing since they were young.  
  
“We need to talk.” Nico says it with such conviction.  
  
“So now you want to talk?” Lewis doesn’t intend to be so cautious towards his best friend. He’s just hurt. He knows Nico better than this.  
  
“Lew, please.” The use of the nickname. Lewis worries his lip between his teeth as he finally glances up at Nico, meeting the teenager’s eyes.  
  
“What, Nico? You think turning up here is going to make everything all better?”  
  
“No,” Nico’s voice has an edge he’s never really heard before. “I came here to sort this out. We still have to race together for the season.”  
  
“Bullshit.” Lewis hisses. “This is nothing to do with the season. This is to do with _us_.”  
  
“There is no _us_ , Lewis.” Nico whispers back, his eyes dark with anger.  
  
“Admit it, things have changed. I’m not the only one who can sense the shift. I look at you and I still see my best friend. But there’s something else. I don’t know what it is yet and it scares the crap out of me.” Lewis admits.  
  
Nico is silent for a moment. “I don’t know what to say, Lew. You’re my best friend and I am confused. I don’t know what I want but I just need to focus on this season, I can’t focus on anything else.”  
  
“I understand that. I just wanted to know…never mind, it doesn’t matter.” Lewis waves off the rest of his answer.  
  
Nico looks at him. Lewis feels as though he’s looking right into his soul. “Lewis, you’re still my best friend, you know that right?”  
  
“Yeah. Best friends.” Lewis replies, a sick knot settling in his stomach. He fights down the nausea as Nico smiles and presses himself into Lewis. Nico’s arms wrap around Lewis’s midsection and Lewis drops his head onto Nico’s chest. He ignores the twisting inside his chest.

 

* * *

 

They’re in Spain of all places when it happens. Lewis has just finished a couple of practise laps and is checking everything on the kart when Nico overhears them.  
  
“So what did you think so far?”  
  
“Have you seen the black one racing? He thinks he’s Michael Schumacher.”  
  
“There’s no room for blacks in racing. He’s not even that good at karts. He’s a nobody. He will never make it to Formula 1.”  
  
Nico glances over towards Lewis. The teenager pretends he hasn’t heard but Nico can see the slump of his shoulders. He wants to go up to the young Brit but his father corners him to discuss other things on the kart and where he’s going to set his braking line.   
  
Lewis gets into his kart, ready for qualifying. His shoulders are ramrod straight as he drives past the group of people who had just insulted him.

Lewis performs poorly during qualifying; his mind is swimming, all he can think about was the group of guys standing there saying he wasn’t good enough to go into Formula One. His thoughts slide towards Nico, he isn’t sure what is going on with them at the moment. He is so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he brakes too late into the last chicane and almost hits the wall. He corrects himself quickly, accelerating towards the finish line.  
  
He tightens his hands on the steering wheel, feeling the warm leather dig into his palms through his racing gloves. He goes onto another quick lap but he over-steers too much going into the second bend and pushes his kart over on the grass, putting a few more seconds onto his timed lap. He bites back a curse and presses down on the accelerator once more, hoping to claw back some time on the next straight. However, the damage is already done. Lewis gets to the finish line but it’s not enough. He’s twelfth on the grid.  
  
He glances over towards the sister kart – Nico is standing by the side of it, his father is hugging him tightly and ruffling his long blonde hair. The look of triumph and happiness on Nico’s face makes Lewis feel sick. Lewis wants to see that look on Nico’s face more often but he also wants to win.  
He pulls himself out of his kart and ignores his father’s questions. He walks over to the motorhome, straight past the group of man who insulted him before – they’re all cheering Nico’s success – the nausea never really goes away.

 

* * *

 

Lewis is up early the next morning, he’s ready to race. He ends up going for a run around the paddock to burn off some excess steam. He leans on the wall, afterwards, his torso covered in sweat, panting as he swigs heavily from a water bottle.  
  
He hears a deep, familiar accent a few feet away. “So you want to go down and practise early, Nico?”  
  
Lewis’s shoulders tense at the sound of his best friend’s name. “Maybe after breakfast. I want to get a feel for the racing conditions today.”  
  
“You don’t need to do that, Nico. You’re first, you’ll easily win this race.” His father sounds overly confident. Lewis frowns, biting the plastic cap of his water bottle.  
  
“Dad, anything can happen in this race. Lewis is down in twelfth but he will find a way up the grid.” Nico’s voice always sounds more muddled when he’s speaking to his father. He enunciates words more when he’s with Lewis.  
  
“You don’t have to worry about Lewis today, son. He’s left himself far too much to do.”  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything.  
  
Lewis swipes the sweat from his forehead and carries on running. He tries to ignore Keke’s comment but it sticks on him, sticks in his mind, like the guys yesterday discussing how the colour of his skin related to his level of driving skill, like Nico. He licks his lips, thinking about how close they were in the swimming pool. He remembers how warm Nico’s fingers were, his icy blue eyes looking straight at Lewis, the curve of his mouth. Lewis growls underneath his breath and picks up his speed. His calf begins to ache. He thinks about Nico and keeps running.

Nico has only just made his way to the paddock when he spots Lewis’s kart weaving its way around the track. Lewis brakes late into the seventh chicane and makes it look easy. Nico watches the Brit carefully as he drives around the track; accelerating and decelerating on the straights to allow himself more of a feel for the track.  
Nico finds his way onto the track and crouches down to examine the tarmac. It’s been dry all weekend, as is the norm in Monaco, but there’s dark storm clouds ahead, building up over the shoreline. They’re not expected until later, but as Nico said himself this morning, anything can happen.

 

* * *

 

The race begins later than usual. Nico gets off to a good start, fending off his competition easily as he flies into the first corner to high speed. The next chicane poses a little bit of a problem as Nico floats his kart sideways and has to wrestle it back into submission, causing a touch of over-steer.  
He can hear the next kart just behind him as he glances to check his apex. He sweeps the kart through the next turn, using his braking reference.   
A drop of water lands on his visor. He frowns, glancing at it. It appears the rain has started early. It starts off slow; a few droplets fall on Nico’s visor and on the steering wheel of his kart.  
  
Lewis, meanwhile had a fantastic start and is sweeping his way up through the ranks. The first few karts he is able to get past easily, he manages to outpace them on the back straight. He’s vying for sixth place when he has to work to overtake a particularly difficult driver. He tries to cut down the inside but the kart manages to push him out so he tries on the outside and brakes earlier. He resists the urge to let out a whoop as his kart brushes past the other. He manages to do a beautiful overtaking manoeuvre on the inside corner on his way to take fourth place. He’s just overtaken the third position holder, a battle that lasted ten minutes, when the rain begins. He settles back in his seat and takes a deep breath. He has to trust the kart. On the exhale, he makes the apex.  
  
It’s easier for him to overtake when it’s raining. Less drivers are willing to take a gamble and they seem to slow down. Lewis doesn’t. He manages to get into second place about five minutes after the rain starts.

  
The fat droplets splatter onto the front of his kart and he can feel the water enter one of his shoes as he brakes fast into turn one. He can see Nico just up ahead – Nico too is driving pretty quickly in these conditions – Lewis spots the jet-stream from Nico’s tyres, can hear the brakes having to work harder. He brakes earlier than he usually would have into the next corner – the rain is getting heavier after all. Nico snaps his kart a little to the left into the next corner and he goes slightly sideways over the back straight. Lewis bites his lip as he watches Nico’s kart up ahead.   
The rain is still coming down in sheets. His shoes are completely soaked now. He has nothing to lose. He brakes early into the next corner and checks to see how much of the road he is using.

  
Lewis swears that he is gaining on Nico by a few seconds each time. He has to press the brake going into the next chicane more than usual. He’s not sure how close he and Nico are.

  
Nico makes a mistake going into the hairpin bend. He over-steers, locking up his rear wheel. The kart spins and stops. Nico lets his head fall back against the seat. He lets out a deep breath. Lewis shoots past him. Nico lets out a curse as he restarts his kart, urging it towards the finish line.  
Lewis doesn’t celebrate. He walks away from his kart, he keeps his helmet on and his head down. Nico watches him leave, biting his lip with worry.

 

Dino pulls them both in for the mandatory de-brief. He looks pleased, his mouth is stretched out, his large white teeth are on show. Nico glances at Lewis every so often. The Brit has pulled on a Mercedes cap, it hangs low, shadowing his eyes from view. He keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the table, his fingers fiddle with his overalls, his fingernails keep pressing against the scratchy Nomex, making a sound every so often.  
  
“So that was a difficult race for everyone involved. So I must give congratulations to you both for not only winning the race, but completing it with no damage to either of your karts.”  
  
“You should congratulate Nico. He won the race.” Lewis says quietly. He finally glances up to meet the eyes of everyone around the table. They are dark and glassy, he looks like he wants to cry.  
  
“Lewis-“ His father begins.  
  
Lewis shakes his head. “No, I’m not doing the whole driver robot thing. I honestly think Nico should have won the race today. I don’t think I should get the credit for everything when he fought off the other drivers for most of the race.”  
  
“I didn’t win the race though, Lewis, and that’s what matters. You saw the opportunity and you took it. You did what any other racing driver would do in that situation.” Nico finally pipes up, his gaze is liquid cobalt. Lewis can’t pull himself away from it.  
  
“Nico, I-“  
  
“Stop beating yourself up for doing well. You need to have confidence in your own abilities. If everybody thought you were rubbish, you wouldn’t be here racing – with me.”  
Lewis can’t find any words.  
  
Dino glances between the two boys. “I agree with you, Nico. Lewis, you won the race. You took advantage of another driver’s mistake. It’s something you must do in any sport.”  
“Exactly.” Anthony chides. “You are used to overtaking other karts are you not? You’ve done it plenty of times.”  
  
“Yeah…I guess you’re right.” Lewis says, finally. _But not to Nico_ , hangs on the edge of his tongue. He glances at the blonde. Nico cocks his head ever so slightly and gives Lewis a small, genuine smile. Lewis wants to throw up.

 

* * *

 

“Why did you say all that stuff, Nico?” Lewis grabs hold of the sleeve of his overalls after debrief. He lets himself be led to one of the garages; they won’t be disturbed down here.

“Lew, I said it because it was true. I lost control of the kart and I made a mistake. There was nothing else to tell.” Nico says the words he rehearsed, calmly.  
  
“You may be able to feed your dad and Dino that bullshit but I can see right through you.”  
  
“What do you want me to say, Lewis?” Nico spits, his anger bubbling up. “Do you want me to say I felt sorry for you or something, that I let you win? I overheard what those guys said to you but I didn’t-“  
  
Lewis’s dark eyes narrow. “Hold on, what do you mean you overheard? Overheard what-“  
  
“I heard them, Lewis. Stop pretending like it didn’t happen! I heard them insult you, they said that there was no room for black people in Formula One.”  
  
Nico watches Lewis’s eyes take on a dangerous glint. “So you overheard that little conversation and thought I was upset by it…so upset that I needed you to sabotage your own race and let me win.”  
  
“Lewis, you know that never happened! I always, always will fight with you for the first place-“  
  
“I can’t believe you thought that I was that weak, their words didn’t hurt me…” Lewis pauses for breath. He suddenly looks exhausted. “I wasn’t hurt by that. I get comments like that all the time. The Brit doesn’t sound convinced by his own words.  
  
“Lew, you don’t have to lie. I understand-“  
  
“How could you possibly understand, Nico? You don’t have people questioning how well you can drive based on the colour of your skin. You don’t have people spitting at you and telling you that this is a white sport and you shouldn’t be doing it. You have no idea, Nico.” Lewis looks deflated.  
  
He slumps down onto the ground, Nico follows him. “You’re right, I don’t understand what it’s like. But I want to help. I don’t want you to drive around the track, upset. That’s how you make mistakes and end up crashing. You say that you don’t take their words to heart, but I still think deep down, that you do and you let every word get to you.”  
  
“How should I stop doing that, then?” Lewis says, his voice thick with emotion.  
  
“Start listening to the people who matter.” Nico replies, pushing his leg against Lewis’s. Lewis glances at him and bites his lip.  
  
“I guess you’re right.” He says quietly.  
  
“I’m always right.” Nico shoots back, giving him a small smile. “Should we go and get some pizza?”  
  
Lewis smiles back. “I’m so sick of pizza, man. We’re in Monaco. Let’s go and get a steak or something.”  
  
“Are you going to pay?” Nico asks, a smirk curling around his lips.  
  
“No. You’re the millionaire, Rosberg.”  
  
Nico thinks for a moment. Lewis tries not to admire the way the light dances on his hair, making it shine gold. “I know a place that does good tacos.”  
  
“That’s a deal. You’re still paying though.” Lewis says, a smile finally making its way back onto his face.

* * *

 

The next race is in Spain. Lewis wins again, Nico is right behind him. They grab ice cream after the race. They both race to be the first one to finish their cornet. Nico wins. He smiles, ignoring the dull ache in his teeth.

 

Lewis wins the next race in Belgium. Afterwards, Keke takes a photograph of the two teenagers side by side on their unicycles. They are wearing nothing but shorts and smiles.


	10. 2000 (Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis and Nico give into their feelings. Nico wonders whether to do things on his own terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, they kiss!  
> Sorry about the wait on this chapter.  
> Enjoy! :)

They’re in Palma and it’s a hot and humid day. The race isn’t for another two days. It’s the final one though; Lewis has managed to win every single race, including the ones in France and Holland. He still remains ecstatic after each win, something that makes Nico’s chest swell when he catches a glimpse of the Brit bouncing up and down on his heels, whooping with joy. He manages to find Nico after every race, throwing himself into the German’s arms. Nico wraps his arms around the slighter Brit, finding a smile gracing his lips as Lewis giggles into his chest.  
  
Lewis is floating around the paddock, talking to people whilst Nico follows him around. Nico realises that the Brit isn’t at his side anymore, moaning that there was no vanilla ice cream left. He turns his head ever so slightly to watch Lewis, in a ratty old t-shirt and a pair of cut-off jeans, run and jump into the arms of another young driver with a shock of dark hair with slightly oversized ears and the beginnings of stubble brushing his chin.

“Kuba, man, I’ve missed you! How’ve you been?” Lewis asks, practically bouncing up and down in the other teenager’s arms.  
  
Nico had seen the boy’s arms tighten around Lewis’s waist and felt a shock of something through his chest. He’s not sure why his chest clenches at the sight of Lewis comfortable and laughing with somebody else.

“I’ve been in and around Poland, Lewis. You saw me at the last race.”

“I know but you took off before we could talk properly.” Lewis remarked.

“Sorry, do I have to wait and see the great Hamilton before I leave?”

“Hey, you’re talking to the current leader here. Hope you’ve been keeping that trophy nice and warm for me.”

“Arsehole.” Robert says, with fondness in his voice.  
  
Lewis smirks and finally realises that Nico has been staring at them and listening to their exchange. “Oh, sorry. Kuba, this is my teammate and my best friend since we were tiny, Nico Rosberg. Nico, this is my good friend Kuba. He’s the reigning champion of this particular karting championship. He’s also a massive Polish arsehole.”

Kuba smiles at Nico and extends his head for Nico to shake. “Robert Kubica, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard lots about you from Lewis.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “Nothing bad I hope?”

“Of course not.” Robert smiles and glances over at Lewis. Nico feels something twist inside at the sight of the Pole watching his best friend.

Lewis seems oblivious to Nico’s glare and bounces up and down. “I think it’s time for pizza, don’t you?”

 

* * *

 

They end up in the same pizza place, sitting opposite one another. The waiter brings over two pizzas; Nico has his usual margarita and Lewis his meat feast, before he brings over another two. Nico and Lewis merely have to glance at one another, brown locking onto blue, before they both duck down and start shovelling it into their mouths. Robert is sitting with them, nearest Lewis, watching the two teenagers with a smirk on his lips.

“Hey, man, aren’t you having any pizza?” Lewis asks the Pole, dark eyes glancing over to Nico and the tomato sauce splattered up his chin.

“No, Lewis. I don’t really like pizza.” Robert says, the smirk stays on his face.   
  
Nico narrows his eyes as he watches the Pole eye Lewis, his dark blue eyes glinting. Nico has felt the same knot in his chest ever since Lewis introduced him when they first arrived. Lewis shrugs and continues eating. He only pauses to drink from his glass of Coke. Tomato sauce clings to the corner of his lip.

“Hey, Lew-“ Nico flinches at Robert using Lewis’s nickname for him. “You should tell Nico about how we met.”  
  
Nico feels sick, instantly regretting the fourth slice of pizza he just shoved down.

“Oh man, I’m not telling Nico that story. It’s embarrassing.”

Robert smirks and glances over at Nico. “It was about two years ago in 1998, I think Lewis had just started out and I’d been karting a while…I ended up going to a championship in Britain. I ended up in pole position and I was doing fine up until five laps in when this kart comes out of nowhere on the long straight and attempts to overtake me. Then he over-steers on the next chicane and ends up plowing his back end into the front of my kart. I get out of my kart on the corner, my tyre is totally fucked. He gets out and starts laughing-“

“We both ended up stood on that bloody chicane laughing at each other, looking at the state of our karts.” Lewis chips in.

“Then I kicked his arse.” Robert adds.

“No, you fucking didn’t, Kuba.” Lewis interrupts, smirking and biting off another chunk of his pizza. The tomato sauce ends up touching his cheek.  
  
Nico wants to lick it off. He pushes the thought away. Lewis giggles at Kuba and continues eating his pizza. Nico ends up with only the crusts of his pizza on his plate.

 

* * *

 

“You and Kuba have an interesting history.” Nico says, off hand. They’re back at the hotel, they’re sharing a room again. Nico is sitting on the bed, trying to read one of the books he’s packed in Italian, but not giving it his full attention. Lewis is flicking through the television channels, half-heartedly.

“I guess you could say that…after we crashed those karts, we only saw each other every so often. He gave me my second ever beer. You remember, that night when we drank together for the first time and I ended up back in your bunk with me?”

Nico feels the blush creep up his cheeks. “I remember. We were like twelve or something at the time?”

“Man, it seems like we’ve known each other forever.” Lewis says, his voice is quiet as though he’s thinking about something.

“It’s been a long time.” Nico agrees. “I still remember the day we met. We were six, you actually had _hair_.”

“Arsehole.” Lewis says, shoving at the blonde.   
  
Nico catches his arm and pulls the Brit towards him. Lewis smirks and twists his leg over Nico, trying to press him into the mattress. Nico laughs, and tries to hook his leg over Lewis’s other leg to try flip him. He manages to press him into the mattress for a few seconds. He giggles once more, his blonde hair falling into his eyes. Lewis manages to make him break his hold by surging forward and twisting their bodies together.

“Not letting you win, Rosberg.” Nico lets out a breath as Lewis manages to flip himself up by pushing his arm up over Nico’s and pressing him into the bed.   
  
Lewis leans over Nico, arms pressed into the mattress at either side of the mattress. Brown eyes stare into blue. Nico is panting lightly on his back on the bed, looking up at his best friend. Lewis doesn’t say anything; he licks his lips and stares at Nico for a fraction of a second before he leans forward and presses his lips against Nico’s. Their lips glide over one another gently at first, a reluctant touch, a test.  
  
Lewis’s lips are warm, soft but slightly chapped – he keeps his hands at either side of Nico, his warm skin slightly grazing against the inch of skin where Nico’s t-shirt has ridden up. The kiss turns from a gentle brush of the lips as Lewis coaxes his tongue into Nico’s mouth. It’s sloppy – Nico is sure that Lewis doesn’t really know where to put his tongue. He pokes it into the corners of Nico’s mouth. Nico relaxes into the kiss, one hand coming up to brush against the faint stubble on Lewis’s chin, the other cupping Lewis’s arse through his jeans. Lewis moans into Nico’s mouth and Nico smirks as he traces the contours of the Brit’s mouth, his teeth scraping against Lewis’s lip every so often.

“God, I’ve waited so long to do this.” Lewis whispers between stolen kisses.   
  
Nico makes a noise that sounds like agreement as Lewis captures his lips once more, eager to show off his dominance. Lewis’s hands begin to explore the curves and lines of Nico’s body, they dance down his side and rest on his hip for a moment, before they dip down underneath the fabric of Nico’s jeans. Lewis grazes his fingers gently against Nico’s thigh. Nico jolts, ripping his mouth away from Lewis, his eyes dark with panic.

“We can’t, Lewis. We can’t-“

Lewis looks slightly dazed, a thread of hurt running through his face. His lips are swollen from the kisses.

“But you, we-“

“Lew, please. We can’t do this.”  
  
Lewis nods, reluctantly pulling away from Nico and straightening up his t-shirt. He looks upset; he bites his lip as he sits on the edge of the bed, avoiding eye contact with Nico. Nico pushes a hand through his long blonde hair and moves to sit next to Lewis.

“Lewis, please don’t shut me out. It’s not that I don’t want to-“

“I understand, Nico. You’re not interested in me that way.”

“Lew.” Nico’s voice hides a touch of desperation. “I just don’t think now is the time to be doing this.”

“Nico, you don’t have to lie to spare my feelings. I know the kiss was terrible. But it was my first one.”

Nico feels his chest go cold. “I was your first kiss?”

Lewis nods. “I thought that you wouldn’t judge me. I didn’t have time for girls when I was karting…all my spare time was spent racing and doing my homework. I just thought-“ He stops, worrying his lips between his teeth.

Nico doesn’t say anything else. All he can think about is Lewis’s soft, dry lips grazing against his own. He itches to grab Lewis’s hand and tell the Brit what he truly thinks; he’s terrified of this not working out. However, before he can reply to Lewis, the Brit stands up and walks over to the door, slipping on his shoes.

“Where are you going, Lew?” Nico asks, confused.

Lewis keeps his head down, stuffing his feet haphazardly into his Pumas.

“I need to go, Nico. I have some stuff I need to do, just leave me yeah?” His voice cracks on the last word as he keeps his head down and leaves the room quickly.  
  
Nico sees the glint of tears in the corners of Lewis’s eye and the muffled sob as the door slams shut. He lays back on the bed and closes his eyes. He thinks about nothing but dark brown eyes filled with tears and Lewis’s fingers dancing over the skin of his thigh.

 

* * *

 

Lewis doesn’t come back to the hotel room. Nico lays awake for half the night, waiting for the key in the door and the familiar sound of Lewis’s Pumas been kicked off, but neither sound comes. It’s too quiet without Lewis chattering in the bed next to him; the king sized bed seems too big without the Brit. Nico tries to keep to his own side in case Lewis decides to slip back in in the early hours of the morning.  
Nico rolls over onto his stomach and stares at the pillow in front of him. By this point in the night, he would be curled around Lewis, hands resting on his belly and nose brushing against Lewis’s buzz cut. Nico falls asleep and dreams about Lewis’s mouth on his own. The race the next morning is the last thing on his mind.  
  


Nico wakes up the next morning with a dull ache in his chest. The bed is still empty. He pulls himself out from underneath the covers and glances at his watch. It’s just past six but he knows he won’t be able to go back to sleep now; not when it’s the day of the last race and with Lewis not returning to the hotel room. Nico wonders where the Brit ended up; probably in Kuba’s room or one of his other passing friends – Lewis is a person who likes to talk to everyone and know everyone’s name on the circuit, he said that he likes to know who is beating – Nico’s chest gives another tug as he thinks about Lewis tucked up in Kuba’s bed, Kuba’s arms around him, brushing the light golden skin.  
  
He shakes his head clear of thoughts and picks his way into the bathroom for a shower. The water is pleasantly warm; that’s the way he likes it, he closes his eyes and lets it cascade over his face and trickle down his chest. He washes his hair twice using the bottle on the side – he thinks it is Lewis’s as the familiar scent of vanilla and blueberry hit his nose – and his thoughts flick back to his friend. He thinks about Lewis’s dark brown eyes glancing at him, he thinks about Lewis’s chapped lips and the scar underneath his mouth, he thinks about the dusting of freckles across the Brit’s cheeks.   
  
Nico groans under his breath – why can’t he get the sight of the young Brit out of his mind? He tries to focus on the race and the track ahead of him, but the long straights and chicanes morph into thoughts of golden thighs, lightly muscled chests and the small sigh from Lewis when Nico kissed him.  
Nico bites his lip and feels his way down his legs to his dick. He runs his fingers down his shaft, imagining that Lewis’s fingers are grazing the sensitive skin there and not his own. The young German gasps as he slides one of his fingers over the slit of his dick, his thoughts still on Lewis.  
He gently grasps his dick in his hand, tugging on it slowly at first.  
  
“Oh god.” He whispers to himself, his eyes closed as he imagines Lewis standing next to him in the shower.  
  
He imagines Lewis on his knees, the warmth of his mouth enveloping Nico’s dick. Nico picks up the pace as he imagines what his best friend would look like pressed between his pale thighs; dark eyes glancing up at Nico, his lips swollen and wet, the small smirk curling on his lips. Nico lets out a gasp as come splatters onto his fingers. He slumps against the wall, panting ever so slightly.  
  
“Lewis.”, the word sounds almost like a breath.

 

* * *

 

Lewis is up at five thirty in the morning. He sits on the balcony of his father’s room and watches the sunrise through the trees. He takes a deep breath; it’s peaceful. There’s still the slight smell of petrol hanging on his clothes. Lewis glances down at his Pumas for a second. He thinks about the night before; about how good Nico’s lips had felt against his own, how perfectly their bodies seemed to fit together.   
  
He had stayed over with Kuba last night after he left the hotel room, he lingered outside his father’s room but decided against it; he loved his father but he figured that this was an issue that he could not fix. He’d crept back thirty minutes ago, his father was still fast asleep. Kuba had been surprised to see him but the Pole was a gracious host; he made Lewis tea (even though he put in the milk in first and made it too bitter, Lewis appreciated the gesture.) and he even slept on the couch, allowing Lewis to have the bed – “But just this once, Hamilton. Next time you fall out with your boyfriend, you go elsewhere, (at which point Lewis had thrown a pillow at his head.) – Lewis sighs heavily.  
  
He knew he should have gone back to the room he and Nico shared and tried to talk to the German. He just couldn’t face it at the time. He had hid out in Kuba’s room, snatching a few hours of sleep. He takes a swig of the energy drink he had swiped from Kuba that morning and lay back on the damp with dew grass.  
Why couldn’t he just stop time and live in this moment for a while? No responsibilities, nobody to impress and talk to. Lewis’s thoughts turn to his mother- he hadn’t seen her since she came to the race in France. She fussed as she usually did, berating his father for not feeding him and making sure he was up to date with all his schoolwork.  
He looks up at the sky. There’s not a cloud in it. It’s the perfect day to win a championship.

 

* * *

 

They’re on their way to the race, it’s about six thirty in the morning. Lewis’s father is driving. Keke is sitting in the front seat. They’re discussing some sport – the snooker tournament or the US Open or something – Lewis isn’t really paying attention. His gaze keeps flicking to the teenager sat next to him. Nico isn’t in a talkative mood – he’s never been much of a morning person – but he’s curled up in the backseat in a big coat, his eyes are downcast. Lewis stays silent and glances out of the window, watching the green olive fields roll by. They’re driving down this country lane in the middle of nowhere, at a respectable 30mph (Anthony never drives over the speed limit if he had can help it.) Keke suddenly moves and pulls the handbrake of the car on.

“Keke, what the fuck-“ Anthony doesn’t have time to finish his sentence as the car swerves violently, veering into the deep ditch at the side. They finally come to a stop, a few centimetres away from a tree.

“You fucking idiot, you could have killed us.” Anthony yells.

“I thought you were a good driver.” Keke says, smirk dancing across his face. He opens the passenger door and glances out. “There’s no way we’ll manage to get the car back up the ravine. We’ll have to walk.”

Lewis begins to laugh. A smile flits across Nico’s face. Their eyes meet for a second.

 

* * *

 

Lewis doesn’t see Nico again until he’s strapped himself in his kart. His father is kneeling by the side of the kart, he’s finished making all the necessary checks.

“I am so proud of you, son.” Anthony says, the pride clear in his eyes. “You have done everything right this season and I don’t think you could have done any better. You’re becoming a fantastic driver.”

“Ready for Formula Three next year?” Lewis replies, smirk on his face.

His father laughs and rechecks his tyres. “We’ll look at our options but they’d be stupid not to give you a chance in motor racing now. You’ve won two British Championships and you’ve almost got maximum points in Europe. I knew you could do it.”

“Just need to finish the job.” Lewis says as he grips the steering wheel.  
  
He can see Nico’s black helmet out of the corner of his eye. The German flag ribbon design stands out like a beacon. Lewis tries to think about how he is going to start the race but he begins thinking about Nico’s lips, he imagines how the German sounds when he’s been pressed into a wall, smothered in kisses.Lewis feels a familiar sensation inside his race overalls. He sighs heavily, shifting to accommodate the extra bulge from his thoughts.  
  
Eventually, everyone moves from the paddock to the stands. Lewis checks, checks and rechecks everything. He leans back in the seat of his kart, squeezing the leather of the steering wheel. The lights are red. He thinks of nothing but racing as they go out. He presses his foot down on the accelerator.

 

Lewis makes a reasonable good start from his position on the grid, he slots in front of everyone else and begins leading the pack towards the first chicane. He knows Nico is right behind him – the German’s kart makes a distinctive noise – and he eases up on the accelerator as he passes down into the second turn. Lewis feels his kart go sideways on the narrow straight before he brakes late into the next chicane and hits the apex perfectly. He’d been having problems with that particular chicane so he’d practised several manoeuvres around that area. He resists the urge to whoop as the race isn’t over yet – although he’s slowly opening up a gap to Nico, he doesn’t sound as near but Lewis hasn’t glanced back to check – he needs to check for his next braking point reference.  
  
Lewis keeps the gap to Nico about the same for the next twenty laps. He continues to accelerate and shave seconds off his sector times. Lewis wants maximum points, he’s already got the trophy but he wants to prove to Dino, to his father, to Ron, to _Nico_ – that he can drive and that he’s exhausted everything he can do in karts. He wants to go into car racing.He tries not to think about what it would be like to take the chicanes in a proper Formula One car – so low to the ground you can feel every bump in the track – he misses the next apex, his tyres skimming on the grass for a second or two.  
  
He knows Nico has gained a tenth of a second on him on the last corner, he can just imagine the German just behind him. He doesn’t want to check though – the mere sight of Nico’s white helmet with the German ribbon unnerves him – he eases off on the brake pedal early on the next chicane, ready to accelerate onto the back straight. He gets the apex on the corner but he goes a little sideways into the long straight at the back of the track.  
  
He glances at the road to check his position, pressing down his accelerator pedal as he goes. He hums a little under his breath as he prepares to brake into the next turn, he brakes a little later than he remembers to, sliding the kart a little sideways. He sees a flash of white out of the corner of his eye. Nico is trying to cut down the outside and overtake Lewis.

Lewis bites his lip, checking his references and keeping an eye on Nico’s kart. His front wing is adjacent to Lewis’s back tyre. Lewis pulls the car into the next chicane, determined to hit the apex and force Nico back behind him. He makes the racing line perfectly, but Nico hangs around, diving in as far as he dares to Lewis’s kart. They’re approaching the front straight and Lewis knows he has to accelerate further in order to get more speed going into the corner.  
He presses down on the accelerator, focusing only on the road ahead of him. He decides to brake later than usual into the first chicane, so he can carry the speed through the corner. Nico brakes earlier than Lewis and falls back a little as Lewis’s speed carries him through the apex and into the next weave of track. Lewis drives perfectly for the majority of the race.  
  
He steps out of his kart, giving it a friendly pat for all the hard work it’s undertaken over the season. His fingers brush against the 44, as he stands on the seat of his kart, arms aloft, whooping and cheering. His father is immediately by the side of the kart, his arms are open and Lewis jumps into them, he’s still shorter than his father but he wraps his arms around the older man, his helmet scrapes against his cap.

“Oh my god, I won. I won.” He says, almost breathless as his father laughs into his ear.

“I am so so proud of you, son.” He says quietly. Lewis beams, he feels as though his chest is ready to burst open.

When his father releases him, he pulls off his helmet and lifts his arms up into the air again. The crowd cheer. The atmosphere is electric; Lewis can feel something in the air, the elation of the crowd makes him ecstatic. He’s managed to win the European Championship with maximum points. Lewis hopes that Ron Dennis is watching somewhere, he’s certain that Dino is on the phone with him right now. Lewis hands over his helmet to his father as he walks around the paddock area. Several of the other drivers offer hugs and warm handshakes, they smile at him and make small conversation.  
He can’t find the one person he wants to see. The crowd linger.

 

* * *

 

Lewis has to wait another twenty minutes for the trophy presentation. It’s a humid night in Parma so he ends up rolling his overalls down and tying his sleeves around his waist. He pulls at his t-shirt, it’s sticking to his back from all the sweat. He itches to pull it away from his warm skin but he figures that he’d only have to put his overalls back on to receive the trophy. Lewis is pulled from his thoughts as one of the stewards collects him to go up for his trophy.  
  
The guy who owns the circuit presents Lewis with his championship trophy, giving him a warm thank you and a pat on the back. Lewis holds the trophy in his hands for a moment, letting his fingers dance over the metal. One year ago, he couldn’t have predicted that he would be standing on the top podium with maximum points. He lifts the trophy aloft and the crowd cheers.

 

“Lewis!” Somebody shouts, Lewis looks up from his conversation with Kuba. Somebody barrels into his arms, he doesn’t say anything as their arms settle around his waist, his arms curled around his neck. He catches the familiar scent of motor oil and strawberries – it’s Nico, nobody else smells like that – Lewis catches a curl of gold hair dance across his cheek, a laugh echoes against his ear.

“You did it! You won!” Nico says, his breath grazing against Lewis’s ear.

Lewis nods, trying not to focus on Nico’s fingers brushing the small of his back. “Thanks, Nico.” Lewis replies, trying to keep the smile on his face.

He doesn’t know how to react to the German at the moment. Nico looks beautiful under the floodlights of the Italian racetrack; his hair is all mussed and golden, there’s sweat clinging to some of the tendrils, a light dusting of golden stubble across his cheeks. His dark eyelashes only emphasise the deep blue of his eyes. Lewis has to look away. He bites his lip. Nico looks at him with concern reflecting in his eyes, there’s a slight dash of hurt in the blue irises.

“Lewis?” He asks, his hands still curled around Lewis.

However, Lewis is spared from responding by somebody else saying his name. Keke stands at the side of the two teenagers, a look of confusion settling across his features.  
Nico immediately drops his arms from around Lewis. Lewis feels a wave of nausea wash over him at the sudden lack of contact.

“Congratulations on your win, Lewis. It was well deserved, you’ve been brilliant all season.” Keke says, his accent is a little clipped but the smile that appears on his face is genuine.

“Thanks, Keke. It means a lot to hear that from somebody like you.”

Keke laughs. “You must tell me where you learnt to drive like that…because you can’t have learnt that from your father.”

Lewis laughs a little at that. Keke claps him on the shoulder – the Finnish man has never been one for affection – and smiles.

“Interesting t-shirt to wear for your win, Lewis.” He says, smirking at the Brit. Lewis feels something twist inside his chest – Keke’s smirk is similar to a certain German he can’t seem to stop thinking about.

He glances down, realising there’s a logo on the front of the cotton t-shirt he hadn’t realised was there before. _Team Rosberg_ stands out in blue letters across his chest. He glances back up, trying not to focus on the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s picked up Nico’s t-shirt by mistake, the blush dances across his cheeks. He glances at Nico, who looks horrified as he takes in the sight of his father’s company stretched across Lewis’s chest.   
  
Keke looks between the two teenagers; Lewis’s mouth is hanging open and Nico’s cheeks are bright red and he smirks. “You usually both have an answer for me. Let me guess? Lewis spilt something on his other shirt?”   
  
Lewis is nonchalantly trying to cover the name with his arms. Nico opens his mouth and shuts it again.

Keke laughs. “Anyway, congratulations Lewis. You wearing my brand can only be good for business.” He walks away.

Lewis and Nico glance at each other for a moment.

“I better go-“ Nico points in the direction his father just left.  
  
Lewis just nods, biting his lip.

 

“Dad, Dad, wait!” Nico says, finally catching up with his father.

“What’s the matter, Nico?” Keke asks, he’s already got a cigarette tucked in between his lips, thick smoke curling around him.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Nico says, his voice is quiet.

“Did I say anything about what it looked like, Nico?” Keke asks his son, taking a puff of his cigarette.

“No, but you weren’t exactly singing Lewis’s praises a few years ago-“

Keke shrugs. “Things change. Lewis is good for you. He is good competition, he will only make you better.”

Nico frowns. He thinks about Lewis’s smile. The damp t-shirt, his name spread across Lewis’s chest. “Maybe…I think there’s something else that could make me better.”  
  
Keke raises an eyebrow.

 

* * *

 

Lewis staggers up to his hotel room at around midnight, he remembers snippets of the rest of the evening. He recalls Kuba pressing a drink into his hands, he remembers going down to the paddock with the Pole, giggling with a bunch of the other drivers. He remembers standing atop of his kart at one point, singing Queen at the top of his lungs. He is buzzed; it’s a pleasant feeling. The room is spinning slightly. He lays on the bed, pushing his face into the nearest pillow. It smells of strawberries and vanilla – Nico – Lewis groans into the soft cotton.

“What is happening to me?” He asks the room, rolling over onto his side. His fingers tangle in the pillow.

Almost as though the door wants to give him an answer, there’s a sudden knock on his door. It’s quiet and hesitant. Lewis lifts his head from the pillow, confusion streaking across his features. He rolls over to get out of the bed and he misjudges; falling out of the bed and hitting the floor heavily. He winces at the dull ache spreading across the bottom of his tailbone. He picks himself up off the floor, using the bedside cabinet as leverage and pads heavily over to the door.

Lewis takes two attempts to grasp the handle and open the door. He blinks at the harsh lighting in the hotel corridor. He blinks; Nico stands before him in the corridor, shuffling from side to side. His teeth are caught between his lips and Lewis feels a twist in his chest at Nico’s flushed pink lips. Nico is no longer in his race overalls; he’s changed into a t-shirt and jeans. His blonde hair is mussed and damp, it curls around his ears and a stray curl falls across his face. He looks more normal this way; he looks younger than his fifteen years. Lewis watches Nico’s eyes flick over him – he knows he looks a mess, he’s still wearing his race overalls and the Rosberg t-shirt, his eyes are glassy and he’s sure there’s a bump on his head somewhere from when he fell earlier in the evening.

“Lew,” Nico says, his voice is almost a whisper. The way it tumbles from his lips sounds natural; it sounds like Nico is supposed to say it.

Lewis doesn’t say anything. He’s still angry at Nico for letting him leave and not explaining himself.

“Congratulations on winning the race and the Championship. I’m so proud of you. I always knew you could do it.” Nico looks sincere as he says the words, his eye dark with emotion. Lewis just isn’t sure which emotions.   
  
He stays silent, glancing ever so often at the light reflecting off Nico’s hair – it makes him look ethereal. Nico pauses for a moment, he licks his lips. The pink tongue slips out and Lewis has to look away.

“Are you drunk?” Nico says, scandalised. He pushes Lewis into the room and slams the door behind him. He stands, hands on hips, glaring at the Brit.

“I only had a few.” Lewis slurs back, trying to avoid eye contact with the blonde. “It’s my first European Championship…I am entitled to celebrate. Besides, Kuba ended up giving me vodka or something, I dunno-“

“You and Kuba, huh?” Nico says the Pole’s name like it’s a swearword. He’s immediately on the defensive, eyes narrowed.

“Me and Kuba are just friends…like you and I are just _friends_.” Lewis fires back.

“Lew-“

“No, Nico. You don’t get to come to my room and get all jealous over a guy I am friends with. You don’t get to kiss me and pretend nothing happened!”

“Nothing happened, Lewis! We kissed! We were both curious-“

“That’s bullshit, Nico and you know it.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you mean then, Lewis? Since you’re such a big-shot now.” Nico yells back.

Lewis notices how much Nico’s English is breaking, the angrier he becomes.

“I mean…I mean that you are just saying that to make yourself feel better. You’re a fan of ignoring something until it goes away.” Lewis spits.

He moves to stagger back to the bed; however, he is very unsteady on his feet. Nico catches the slighter Brit before he hits the carpet. Lewis wriggles in his arms, voicing his displeasure but Nico ignores him. Lewis is drunk and he’s confused. Nico drops him on the bed and sits by the Brit’s feet as he watches Lewis lie down on the soft mattress.  
  
“I think you should get some sleep and we will talk about this in the morning.” Nico says gently, he fights the urge to touch Lewis, to put his arm on his leg or run his fingers over the Brit’s buzzed hair.

“I don’t want to talk in the morning. I want to talk now.” Lewis says quietly. His voice is muffled by the duvet.

“Okay, fine, where do you want to start?” Nico asks the Brit.

Lewis rolls over, his t-shirt rides up ever so slightly, showing off his golden skin. Nico tries not to glance at the dark hair around Lewis’s belly button.

“I…I am sorry for been an arsehole. I just…I was so upset about the kiss.”

“Why though? It was just a kiss between friends.”

“I don’t see it like that though, Nico. I didn’t see you as a friend when I kissed you. I saw you as something else. Something is happening to me and I don’t know what it is-“ Nico remains silent. Lewis lets his foot brush against Nico’s knee. “I look at you and I’m happy. I just don’t know what these feelings are that I am having…I kissed you and I liked it.”  
Nico doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry if I just freaked you out. You don’t have to lie and spare my feelings. I understand that you didn’t like it. I just…I did and I’m sorry-“

“Lew, just stop-“ Nico says, his voice is quiet. “I liked the kiss.”

“You…what?” Lewis asks, his head lifts from the pillow. “You liked it?”

Nico looks at the floor and bites his lip. “Yeah…I liked it. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I just look at you sometimes and I have all these feelings inside. I don’t know what to do about them.”

“I know how you feel…I just can’t stop thinking about you and the kiss. I just…I’m confused and I feel sick.” Lewis’s voice is almost a whisper.   
  
He looks paler than usual. Suddenly, he jolts upright. “I need some air.” He says, almost to himself. Nico watches as the Brit distangles himself from the bed and staggers over to the balcony doors, barrelling his way through it. Nico jumps from the bed and follows the other teenager, worrying his teeth between his lips.

 

* * *

 

Lewis is leaning over the side of the balcony, his hands braced against the cool metal. His shoulders, slighter than Nico’s, are heaving up and down, his eyes are closed. It’s a warm, humid night – Nico doesn’t shiver once as he moves to stand next to the Brit. Lewis stiffens when Nico puts his arm around his shoulders. Nico tries to ignore the pain in his chest when Lewis flinches at the contact.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks, he doesn’t know what else to say.

“How long have we been friends?” Lewis slurs, after a moment’s pause. He glances at Nico, his eyes are glazed and dark. He looks dazed.

“Since we were eight, I think. Remember the first time we met? When I was a complete dick to you? Made Senna come out and investigate.”

Lewis snorts. “You’ve been a complete dick to me sometimes. Remember when you used to call me shortie all the time?”

“You’re still short.” Nico fires back, the tension in Lewis’s shoulders is lifting.

“You’re not exactly bloody Michael Jordan height, Nico.” Lewis slurs back, his eyes are still glassy.

“Touche. You made fun of my hair.”

“Only because it’s pretty.” Lewis says, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“How much did you drink, Lewis?” Nico asks, concern dancing across his face.

Lewis leans further onto the balcony and looks up at the darkening sky. “I don’t know. Lots of people gave me drinks. Kuba gave me some shots of something black. It tasted disgusting.”

Nico shakes his head in disapproval. “Lewis, you shouldn’t have taken drinks from anyone! They could have been spiked with anything.” He scolds the Brit.

A small frown line appears on Lewis’s nose. “Nico, I didn’t take drinks from anyone! My friends bought them for me. I’m entitled to have a little fun after a long season. You’re just annoyed that you didn’t beat me more this season.” Lewis says, his words like fire.

“I am not annoyed that you beat me, Lew. I’m not that childish. I just don’t think you should drink anything that anybody gives you, friend or not.” Nico snaps back, his cheeks colouring red.

“I still think you’re just jealous. You’re jealous of me, you’re jealous of the fact that I made you look bad, even though everyone expects you to be the best on the track. You’re jealous of the fact that I have nobody to live up to, that I can be friends with anyone on the track and you’re just stuck on whatever your dad tells you to do-“ Lewis doesn’t get to finish as Nico pushes him up against the wall, silencing him with his lips.

Nico presses the Brit into the wall of the balcony, sliding his tongue into his best friend’s mouth. He’s angry at Lewis and he wants him to know. Lewis fights back at first, he bites Nico’s tongue, his eyes are dark with fury. Nico hisses in pain as he presses himself further into Lewis’s mouth.  
  
Their teeth clack together, their tongues wrestle for dominance. Nico tilts his head ever so slightly, letting his tongue run over the back of Lewis’s mouth and the inside of his cheek – Lewis makes a little noise in the back of his throat – Nico can’t stop thinking about how Lewis tastes like alcohol. His lips are chapped and they’re dry, but they’re warm and Nico thinks they feel like home.

Nico pulls away slightly, tracing the contours of Lewis’s lips gently with his tongue. The two teenager’s hips bump against one another, almost carelessly. Nico finally pulls away for a breath – he and Lewis lock eyes, the Brit is panting slightly, his eyes are still dark and there’s something in them that wasn’t there before. They say nothing to one another. Lewis cocks his head ever so slightly, his look defiant.  
  
Nico licks his lips, they’re dry – before he goes in for another kiss, this time on the corner of the mouth. He dips his mouth down, peppering Lewis’s chin with small, sweet kisses. He lets his mouth dance its way down Lewis’s neck – Lewis lets out a gasp when Nico begins sucking a love bite onto the expanse of his neck, stretched out for the German.

“Oh god.” He whispers, his mouth grazing the top of Nico’s head, the blonde strands press against his dry lips.

He can’t see the German but he feel the smirk against his neck – a small flash – before he’s gasping again, Nico’s teeth working their way against his skin. He feels the nip of his skin, before Nico presses a little kiss to the skin afterwards.

“Lew-“ Nico whispers against his skin. He presses his knee between the Brit’s thighs, gently grazing the inside of the sensitive skin.  
Lewis melts against him, his hands moving to cup Nico’s arse.

“I was jealous,” Nico admits, peppering kisses down the side of Lewis’s neck. He nips the golden skin once more, extracting a pleasured groan from the teenager. “I was jealous of you and Kuba. I thought you wanted him.”

“I never wanted him.” Lewis says, thickly. His eyes are trained on Nico.

“I thought you did.” Nico replies as he tugs Lewis’s t-shirt down ever so slightly – that damned Team Rosberg still standing out proudly across the expanse of his chest - and presses his tongue against the Brit’s collarbone. “I wanted you to win, of course I did, but I wanted to win too.”

Lewis doesn’t say anything at first. Nico feels one of the Brit’s hands move to graze the inside of his thigh. Nico stills for a moment and Lewis, apprehensively, fingers the waistband of Nico’s jeans. “I know you did. You just frustrate me sometimes. You never think about yourself. You never do anything for yourself-“

“I’m doing something for myself right now.” Nico says, smirk clinging to his lips.

Lewis doesn’t say anything. He smiles back, one of his fingers sliding underneath Nico’s waistband. Nico bites his lip and pants against Lewis’s neck as the Brit’s fingers dance down the inside of his hip and move to cup his dick through the thin material of his boxers.

“Lew,” The Brit’s name is almost a whisper, a ghost of breath across golden skin.

“Let me in, let me know what you’re thinking.” Lewis whispers back, his eyes are dark and less glazed – the alcohol seems to be wearing off a little – Nico is lost for words as Lewis’s fingers brush against his shaft. He stills.

“Nico, let me know if you want this.”

“I don’t know what I want, Lew.” Nico says. There’s a sudden loss of warmth as Lewis moves his hand away. He looks smaller, tired, Nico can suddenly see the circles under his eyes. “We’ve been friends most of our childhood and I don’t want to lose that.”

“We don’t have to lose it.” Lewis replies.

“I’m just scared that we’re going to.” Nico says.

“It’s not going to change things, not if we don’t let it.” Lewis looks smaller, defeated. It’s not a look that suits him.  
  
Nico stays silent, his blue eyes trained on brown ones, melting with hurt with every second left silent.

“I lov-“ Lewis begins but Nico doesn’t let him finish.

“You don’t. Don’t say that. We’re friends, Lewis.”

“ _Friends_ don’t kiss each other like we just did.” Lewis’s shoulder hunch, as though he is protecting himself from the verbal blows.

“Lewis, stop fighting this-“

“No, Nico. You need to stop fighting this thing between us! It’s always you that pulls away, never takes a chance. How do you know it won’t work until you give it a shot?”

“I can’t risk it between us, Lewis. I don’t want to lose you.”

Lewis doesn’t say anything else for a moment. He finally meets Nico’s eyes and Nico wishes that he hadn’t – the hurt is plain to see in Lewis’s dark brown eyes.

“Okay, just friends.” Lewis says quietly. It’s not convincing, Nico thinks as he watches the Brit brush gently past him. He stares at the mark bruising on Lewis’s skin and wonders if he’s made a mistake.

 

* * *

 

“I’m joining Team Rosberg and moving into Formula Three.” Nico tells Lewis the next day.

Lewis doesn’t say anything. Nico’s gaze keeps jumping to the red marks on Lewis’s neck, the proof that there were not just friends last night and Nico is trying to ignore the fact that he liked Lewis’s tongue in his mouth, he liked Lewis’s fingers dancing against his thigh.He tries to ignore the glassiness of Lewis’s dark eyes, the dark blue circles under his best friend’s eyes, how tired he looks.  
  
In the end, there’s a heated row before Lewis finally slumps on the bed in defeat.

“Enjoy yourself, Nico. It’s been a pleasure racing with you this year.”

It’s not until three weeks later, that Nico is told that Lewis is going into motor racing, but he will not be joining Nico in Formula Three. Nico wants to throw up when he’s told. He tries not to think about the words his father said several years ago and the crowd in Spain, so intent on celebrating Lewis’s failure.

 

* * *

 

He bites his lip as he goes into his father’s office.

“What do you mean you want to wait another year to go into Formula Three?” Keke’s face is bright red, Nico doesn’t think he’s ever seen his father this angry.

“I’m not ready. I need to win a Championship first. I’ll win the Championship next year and then I will race for you.”  
  
Keke doesn’t say anything.  
  
Nico continues, “I still want to do things on my own terms.” He thinks about Lewis and the mark he’s left on the Brit’s skin – on his own terms.


	11. 2002 (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis struggles in Formula Renault. Nico flies high in Formula BMW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long hiatus, this fic is back! There's not much Brocedes in this, but it's all relevant to the story.  
> Enjoy!

**England, 2002**  
  
Lewis is strapped in the seat of his Manor Motorsport car. He’s slowly getting used to driving a car – he’s just passed his driving test, first time of course. He’s had lots of practise now, they’re halfway through the season. Lewis has been consistently finishing in the points but he hasn’t won a race outright yet.  
  
 He lets his fingers drift from the steering wheel to the car’s interior. His driving gloves are too thick to actually feel the textures inside, so Lewis settles for imagining what the carbon fibre feels like under his fingers. He lets his fingers dance for a moment over the shiny silver bodywork of the car.  
  
“We’ll be okay.” He whispers, as he pulls on his balaclava and after that, his helmet – still the same sunburst yellow of his idol – he looks up at the sky and sees dark clouds.  
  
He grips the steering wheel – he’s still not used to it, there’s so many damn buttons on the thing, he’s certain that he’s just activated the DRS instead of disengaging the clutch – and he thinks about the last time he’d felt this nervous. It was at the race in Parma, the one with Nico. He shakes his head, he doesn’t want to think about Nico at the moment.

It has been a strange winter for Lewis for far, he’d ended up racing cars earlier than he anticipated. Dino was anxious to move him up into motor racing, and he’d ended up in the Formula Renault Winter Series at first. He did so well that they offered him a place in Formula Renault UK. He wanted to call up Nico and let him know but he decided against it, they hadn’t parted on the best of terms.  
  
He thinks back to that warm evening in Parma, the way that Nico’s mouth had opened up to his own, how dark Nico’s eyes were and the moan when he’d pressed Lewis up against the wall…Lewis shakes his head. He can’t afford to think about Nico right now, he needs to focus.  
  
He ends up crashing the car on his third lap. He sits in his seat, a little shaken, his heart thudding against his ribcage, his thoughts on Nico.

* * *

  
  
Nico pulls up to the paddock and gets out of his car. He’s managed to get the car into pole position, first place in Hockenheim. He smiles, glancing at the crowd. They’re cheering – for him. His father is by his side instantly, crushing him into a hug. Nico laughs into his father’s shoulder, the cool plastic hitting the fabric of Keke’s shirt.  
  
“Well done, son. Pole position on your very first race.” There’s a cigarette dangling from his mouth.  
  
He looks happy, his grin stretched tight over his face. He releases Nico quickly, Keke isn’t one for affection. He’s not a father that will stand and shower his only son in affection.  
  
Nico is so dazed by the result, he doesn’t say anything. He can’t put his emotions into words. He whoops at the crowd, pumping his fist into the air a few times. The crowd are mostly faceless – Nico catches a few colours here and there – he spots a yellow cap. His thoughts immediately change to Lewis. His heart thuds in his chest. He wonders if the Brit even knows that he’s got pole position at Hockenheim, he wonders if Lewis would even care.

* * *

  
  
Lewis wins the next race. He stands on the top step and stretches his arm up to the sky and screams in happiness. This is what winning feels like, he thinks. He wants to get used to the feeling.  
  
His father stands at the base of the podium, tears running down his cheeks. Lewis bites his lip and tries not to cry himself.

* * *

  
  
Nico is in Holland, it’s a two day race weekend and he’s just won the first leg. He leans on the railings, looking out over the horizon. Zandvoort’s beautiful golden beach lies before him. He closes his eyes and breathes in the salty sea air. He feels lonelier than ever, the other guys he competes against are nice enough but as they are competing for the same title and ultimately, the same patch of tarmac, their relationships can become strained.  
  
Nico opens his eyes and glances out at the calm blue waters of the North Sea. His thoughts flicker back to Lewis. He wonders if the Brit ever felt this lonely when he was winning races and was at the top of the Championship rankings. He thinks about what Lewis is doing right now, he wonders if he’s still in karts or if he has moved into motor racing. He hasn’t seen the Brit in over a year, the last time they had spoken was the morning after the night in Palma.  
  
They had woken up the next day, curled up together. Nico had felt a curl of warmth in his thigh when he woke up, he had watched Lewis sleep peacefully, his chest rise and fall.  
Nico examined the Brit’s freckles, they seemed to dance across his cheeks, and his long, dark eyelashes that brushed gently against his golden skin.  
  
“Stop looking at me.” The Brit had muttered, his eyes still closed.  
  
“I’m not looking at you, Lew.” Nico replied, his voice thick with sleep.  
  
Lewis had smirked, the corner of his mouth upturned ever so slightly, Nico wanted to kiss his mouth again. “Right, you’re not looking at my _hot body_ , Rosberg. I believe you.”  
  
“You should.” Nico fires back as he pulls himself from the warmth of Lewis’s chest and pins the Brit’s hands down against the white sheets.  
  
Lewis smirks again. “Make me believe you.” He whispers.  
  
Nico smiles and wrestles Lewis into the sheets.  
  
 There are still times when Nico is alone in his hotel room, or in the shower after a long day racing, his thoughts sometimes stumble over to that moment. There’s times when his fingers wrap around his dick and he thinks about Lewis’s swollen lips, his wide eyes, the love bite on his golden skin. He itches to talk to the Brit. He closes his eyes once more, trying to rid his mind of thoughts of dark eyes and chapped lips.

* * *

  
  
Lewis wins the first leg at Donington, he’s feeling great and the car feels like a dream at the moment. He’s just come off the back end of a terrific win at Brands Hatch, it was bucketing it down with rain – typical British summers – but he’s never one to linger in the past.  
  
He’d beaten Danny with five seconds to spare. He drives the car down the front straight, whooping with joy. Lewis takes a moment to drive around the whole circuit, saluting to the pockets of fans standing in various spots. He pulls himself out of his car, his legs like jelly, and his father is there to catch him. Lewis throws his arms around his father, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes.  
  
“You did it, I am so proud of you. You got the hat trick, son. You’re going to be a superstar.”  
  
Lewis laughs into his father’s ear. “Dad, I am a superstar.” He teases, as his father elbows him in the side.  
  
The crowd cheer. Lewis jumps up and down, sweat cascades down his back and soaks his overalls but he doesn’t care, he’s happy.

* * *

  
  
Nico is back at Hockenheim. It’s October and the temperature is beginning to drop. He shivers in his thin overalls as he walks the length of the track. He likes to get a feel of the track by foot, he likes to explore each bend, know where the soft stones are, he knows each crook on the white lines and what the apex feels like underneath his fingers.  
He bends down and lays a hand on the tarmac, it’s cold. He glances up at the sky. Dark storm clouds seem to close in.  
  
Nico bites his lip as one of the other cars suddenly appears by his side on the long straight and attempts to swoop down in front of him. Nico holds his ground, angling his car ever so slightly to the left. He knows the next chicane is favourable towards him, he can get the tight inside line and the other car will be forced to go wide.  
  
He times it perfectly, he brakes hard and fast going into the chicane and the wheels of his car graze against the white line beautifully. He pushes his car out in front of the other and accelerates quickly, to pick up pace before he has to brake into the next corner.  
  
It is only after he crosses the finish line in first place that he realises he can taste blood in his mouth. It’s metallic. However, none of that matters as he climbs out of his car, his legs can barely hold himself upright. His father is pulling him into his arms, speaking in frantic French. Nico feels dizzy as his father’s arm close around him – his father is yelling about him being the Champion – he can’t hear properly through his earplugs. His father keeps hold of him, his arms like a vice, his blue eyes – Nico’s eyes – are full of pride.  
  
He pulls off his helmet and takes a few deep breaths of the air. It’s a humid and warm evening in Germany, strange for autumn. His hair sticks to his forehead and he pulls a hand through it, grimacing at how damp it is. It feels surreal – the crowd is cheering and his father is grinning widely.  It still doesn’t register when the trophy is pressed into his hands – he goes through the motions – he lifts the trophy aloft, letting the screams of the crowd wash over him. He waves the Finnish flag over his head. His father whoops at the sight of the white and blue flag held aloft by his son.  
  
The smile arrives on Nico’s face when he’s alone in his hotel room, the trophy gleaming under the soft light on his bedside table. He lets the feeling of victory wash over him.    
  
That night, he dreams about Lewis again, Lewis on the podium next to him, smiling and holding up his own trophy. Their fingers brush against one another. Nico wakes up covered in sweat.

* * *

  
  
Lewis sits, slumped in his car. It’s the end of the season, he’s finished fourth. He lets his head slump against the steering wheel. He thinks about the eighth chicane and how he missed the apex. He wanted to win this race, he needed to win this race. He knew that it was mathematically impossible for him to win the Championship outright but he definitely could have taken second place.  
  
“Lewis.”  
  
He looks up, his father is standing over him. He feels a sudden warmth on his shoulder. His dad is leaning down, his hand lies on his shoulder, an attempt to comfort him. He’s not a trace of anger in his face – he looks happy and proud.  
  
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Lewis says, his voice is barely audible over the cheers of the crowd.  
  
“For what, Lewis?” His father says, there’s a trace of confusion lingering over his features.  
  
Lewis glances at his father closely. He notices for the first time, the touch of grey hair at the temples and the beginnings of wrinkles around his eyes – he realises how much his father has given up for him and he’s blown it, he’s blown his chance on that bloody eighth chicane.  
  
Lewis just wants to pull himself out of his car and go to his hotel room, he wants to curl up in the big bed, underneath the covers and watch shitty comedy movies with a bowl of popcorn.  
  
“I let you down.” Lewis says finally, after a moment of silence.  
  
His father’s smile slips ever so slightly. Concern glosses over his features. “Son, you didn’t let me down. I am so proud of you.”  
  
“But I didn’t win-“  
  
“Son-“ His father’s brown eyes bore into him. “There will be plenty of times that you will not win. It happens in life. But the true mark of a champion is how you chose to deal with those losses. You either focus on them too much, or you move on and you win the next race.”  
  
Lewis lifts his head. He nods and pulls his father into a hug. Anthony Hamilton smiles and returns the hug the best he can – Lewis is still strapped into the cockpit of his car – and they both laugh.  
  
Lewis returns to the hotel, third place trophy under his arm. He lays on the big bed and stares up at the ceiling, he thinks about the next season, he wonders if they’ll move him up to Formula Three. His thoughts suddenly turn to Nico.  
  
He thinks back to the morning after the kiss they shared in Palma. He’d woken up curled up next to Nico, the German’s head was pillowed on his chest, their feet tangled together. Nico had looked so happy, his pale skin seemed to shine in the early morning light sifting through the curtains.  
They had ended up wrestling – Lewis dissolved into giggles as Nico pressed his fingers into his hipbones, making him jolt.  
  
“Fuck off, Rosberg.” Lewis gasps out as he tries to grab Nico’s waist between his legs.  
  
Nico ducks out of the way. “No, I like the view here.”  
  
Lewis feels himself go red - he knows blush has flooded his cheeks. Nico glances at him, he cocks his head ever so slightly. Baby blue eyes bore into his brown.  
  
Lewis finally falls asleep with the light switched on, his hands still wrapped around the trophy.  
  



	12. 2002 (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico and Lewis end up getting more than they bargained for in Monza. Feelings come to the forefront.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while but once I'm on holidays, I will write some more of this bad boy!  
> Enjoy this chapter!  
> :)

Nico and Keke are in Monza for the Grand Prix. It’s their first race in a while; the Formula 1 had to take a back seat whilst Nico was busy driving. Nico missed it, of course he missed the rush of being in the crowd and not having any control over the outcome of the race. He closes his eyes and lets the atmosphere wash over him – the roar of the crowd as some of the cars leave the pits to warm up their tyres, the smell of petrol and warm tarmac and the warmth of the sun making the ends of his hair damp.  
  
He follows his dad around, hands in his pockets. The paddock is heaving, the norm in Monza, and there’s various members of the press floating around, there’s a huge flock around Michael Schumacher’s garage as there usually is. Nico fights the urge to roll his eyes as his father is stopped again for a quick word. Keke seems to love the attention – he speaks eloquently, a cigarette dangling from his mouth as he talks to the camera.  
  
Nico moves away from his father’s interview and turns to move towards the far end of the paddock. He keeps his head down, his sunglasses firmly on as he moves toward the McLaren-Mercedes garage. He’s drawn to the red and white cars for some reason. He stands outside the garage, watching the mechanics work on the cars. However, he’s pushed out of his reverie by somebody’s shoulder clattering into his own.  
  
“Watch where you’re bloody going.” He says in Italian, the words half hearted.  
  
“Nico?” A familiar voice – British accent – says.  
  
Nico whips his head up so fast he feels a crick in his neck.  
  
“Lewis.” Nico says, locking eyes with the Brit.  


* * *

  
  
Lewis wasn’t expecting to see the blonde German that had been the subject of many of his dreams for the past few weeks. It feels strange to see Nico again, older, more experienced and not in his overalls.  Nico looks different; he’s changed a lot in a year. He’s grown another couple of inches, Lewis barely grazes his shoulder. He seems to have grown into his body, he seems more compact and muscular, no doubt the result of his father pushing him towards the upper leagues. His golden hair is still long, it curls around his ears. It’s swept back from his face artfully.  
He seems to have grown into his face, his jawline is sharper, covered with a light dusting of golden stubble. There’s still a few patches of acne across his cheeks, but Lewis finds these endearing. Nico’s wearing an old Team Rosberg t-shirt, the thin material stretched across his chest, showing off his light muscle tone. Nico it seems, has only gotten more attractive in the year they have spent apart.  
  
Lewis bites his lip, trying to shake away the thoughts of the teenager – his best friend – nipping at the skin on the side of his neck, how Nico’s hair would look drenched in sweat, when he pushes it back from his face, his blue eyes dark with desire…Lewis shakes his head and smiles at the German, ignoring the sudden warmth spreading against his groin.  
Lewis suddenly feels awkward, he’s still wearing his goddamn braces and his hair is still buzzed short – it’s too much hassle to grow it out into any kind of style, Lewis’s hair does what it wants – puberty hasn’t been kind to Lewis in the same way as it has to Nico, and he’s still waiting for his growth spurt.  
  
Nico gives him a small, shy smile. “How have you been?” His English sounds a little rusty, as though he hasn’t spoken the language since he last spoke to Lewis.  
  
Lewis swallows the lump in his throat. “I’m okay…driving in a proper car now.”  
  
Nico raises an eyebrow. “Formula Three?” He feels a shot of something drift through his chest as he says it – a touch of jealousy and interest – but Lewis just shakes his head and smiles.  
  
“Not a chance. I’m in Formula Renault, the season just finished…I crashed my car in the third lap in the first race. They were not happy about it, guess that affected my chances.”  
  
Nico throws his head back and laughs. Lewis feels a curl of sadness sweep around his ribcage at the sound. He’d missed Nico’s laugh, the smell of his strawberry shampoo (which he can just smell over the petrol), the creases in the corner of his eyes when he smiles, the dimple on his cheek, he missed _Nico_ in general.  
  
“You crashed the car?”  
  
“I did but it wasn’t my fault, the boundary line was very slippery from the rain and my wheel just touched it and I spun off into the barrier. My back still bloody hurts…so what you are doing? Still driving for your dad?”  
  
Nico’s eyes widen with surprise at Lewis’s comment before he realises that the Brit had no idea that he’d decided against joining his father’s racing team.  
  
“I didn’t end up racing for my dad in the end. I decided that I wasn’t ready…I am driving in the Formula BMW series…well, I just finished a couple of weeks ago.”  
  
Lewis is surprised by the German’s words. He thinks back to the morning after the kiss. Nico had been very adamant about his choices.

* * *

  
  
“I am going to race for my father in Formula Three.” Nico said to Lewis, they’re both still naked, the covers are pooled around his pale form. Lewis feels his mouth fall open.  
  
“I know I’ve been very against this in the past…but I think I need to move up. I don’t want to be stuck in karts for another two years.”  
  
There’s a moment of silence before Lewis finally speaks, “Are you sure you want this? All the times you told me, all those times you said that you wanted to build your own success and not be constantly compared to your father and you’re going to throw that away and take the easy road out-“  
  
“Lew,” –the use of the nickname in an attempt to soften the blow – “I’ve thought about this time and time again. I do want to build my own success but I want to be in Formula One more.”  
  
“So you sacrifice everything you worked for?” Lewis says, his tone bitter.  
  
“Lewis, it’s not like that. I promise.” Nico replies, he’s almost pleading. It doesn’t suit him.  
  
“Then what is it like, Nico? Explain it to me.”  
  
“You don’t understand, Lewis! You just literally won the Championship, like you won every race, you have McLaren sniffing around you, you’re practically Ron Dennis’s new little ready-made driver. I had to do something. I want to race, I want to be the best…but as long as you’re with me, I can’t be. I needed to do something for myself, I needed to be selfish and use my privilege for once. I’m sick of hiding who I am, even if I go the right way, I would still get people saying that I got where I was because of my _name_. Why not prove them right?”  
  
“Because I know you’re not like that and you like to prove people wrong. So what if you didn’t win? My dad always said, the mark of a true champion is that he doesn’t win every race, but he deals with the loss, moves on and overcomes it. I mean, so many people have told me that I shouldn’t be racing for various reasons; I’m too short, I’m not white enough, not rich enough, not clever enough. You can’t just take the easy route out because it’s easy!”  
  
“I’m not taking it because it’s easy, I’m taking it because I’m selfish and I want to do it!”  
  
“Do whatever you like! I don’t care anymore!” Lewis yells, anger suddenly erupts from him.  
  
“You cared last night when we-“ Nico spits back, his eyes dark blue.  
  
“Don’t you dare turn that against me, you are the one who said we were only friends.”  
  
“We are only _friends_ , it’s you that want to make this into something, something-“ Nico snaps, he can’t think of the right words. Lewis been in front of him, angry, naked, golden skin a perfect contrast against the white sheets, it’s all distracting him and clouding his usually clear judgement.  
  
Lewis opens his mouth and closes it again. Nico finds his own stare lingering on the dark red mark on Lewis’s neck, the one he’d sucked into Lewis’s skin last night, marking the Brit out as his own. He tries not to think what it felt like, how Lewis tasted when he scraped his teeth gently against the flushed skin of Lewis’s neck, open and ready for him.  
  
Lewis however, doesn’t look back up to Nico. He just looks down, tiredness sweeping across his features. The dark smudges under his eyes seem to intensify. He looks defeated as he tells Nico to enjoy himself next year and that it was a pleasure. That was the last conversation they had.

* * *

  
  
“I see, so how you been doing in that series?” Lewis says after a moment’s pause. He hates how awkward they’ve become, they’ve been apart for a mere year and already it seems like too long.  
  
“I won the Championship.” Nico says, his voice is quiet. He’s not sure how to tell Lewis his good news – he doesn’t want to come across as too big headed.  
  
Lewis’s face breaks into a huge grin. “That’s great, Nico. Congratulations man, you should have called me about that.”  
  
“I thought we weren’t talking anymore.”  
  
Lewis goes quiet for a moment. “I know, I was mad at you but you know you always could have called. Especially with news like that.”  
  
Nico nods and smiles back at Lewis, the Brit’s smile is infectious. His braces glint in the Italian sun.

* * *

  
  
They end up in some pizza place in one of the back alleys; it’s just like the old times. Nico looks across the table at his best friend, shovelling pizza into his mouth, the tomato sauce drips next near the corner of his mouth. Nico wants to lick it off.  
Lewis looks up from his plate. The tomato sauce still clings to his mouth in a red smudge.  
  
“I missed this.” Nico says, quietly, his fingers are greasy with the pizza in his hand.  
  
“Missed what?” Lewis asks, grabbing his soda and taking a sip of it.  
  
“I missed this…you know being with you.”  
  
Lewis stiffens at Nico’s words. “You did?” He asks after a long pause.  
  
Nico worries his lip between his teeth, he wonders when Lewis and he changed so much, he doesn’t remember everything being this awkward.  
  
“Of course I did, you’re my best friend, Lew.”  
  
“I missed you too, Nico. It wasn’t the same without you swearing at me in German after the race.”  
  
“Fuck you.” Nico shoots back, knocking his foot into Lewis’s thigh.  
  
Lewis shakes his head. “Still as bloody violent as ever, Rosberg. I thought a year in motor racing might have made you mellow a little.”  
  
“I see you’re still as fucking annoying as ever.” Nico says, deadpan.  
  
A smirk dances across Lewis’s face. He shoves his last piece of pizza into his mouth and then grabs Nico’s hand.  
  
“I win, c’mon, we need to get back before our fathers send out the search party. Your dad will be manning the lifeboats.” He jokes. Nico laughs, but it’s hollow.  
  
All he can think about is Lewis’s hand, still wrapped around his own. His fingers are warm and pale golden, they contrast beautifully with his own pale fingers. Lewis pulls him out of the restaurant and they walk along the side streets, feeling the Italian sun on their backs. It’s only when they turn into the next street that Lewis remembers that their fingers are tangled together.  
  
“Oh, sorry.” He whispers, his cheeks turning pink from embarrassment.  
  
Nico smiles but he misses the warmth of Lewis’s golden fingers grazing up against his own, like they’re supposed to be there.  


* * *

 

They end spending the evening together, watching the race unfold before their eyes. Schumacher whips around the chicane at turn four. Nico glances at Lewis, he’d persuaded his father to let Lewis stay with them in the VIP section. Lewis is clearly not used to such treatment, Nico smirks as he watches the older teenager’s eyes, wide and still a beautiful shade of golden brown, as the waiter at the side of him tops up his glass. Nico sips from his own glass of champagne, watching the action unfold on the track as Coulthard drives right up to Massa’s rear end, trying to take the slip stream.  
  
Nico lets his gaze fall back on his best friend – Lewis has his mouth wide open, studying the race intently. There’s a touch of something in his eyes, a sense of jealousy and intent – as though he’s watching this to pick up tips for himself. It’s not merely for enjoyment.  
  
Nico smirks as he watches Lewis’s dark eyes drift down towards the blood-red Ferrari flying towards the first bend. Lewis fingers his champagne glass as though he is considering sipping from it, before he pulls it to his mouth and downs it in one go. He catches Nico staring at him and smiles at the German.  
Nico freezes, cheeks suddenly colouring pink at the thought of been caught by his best friend.  
  
The smile doesn’t leave Lewis’s face. “Am I drinking it wrong?” He asks, showing off his empty champagne glass.  
  
“Well, don’t ask me, when you win, you just spray it around. So I guess they won’t mind if you drink it all in one go.”  
  
Lewis snorts as the waiter comes over and refills his glass.  
  
“I could get used to this.” He whispers to Nico.  
  
Nico smirks. “Wait until you go to VIP in Monaco.”  
  
Lewis’s dark eyes widen. “When am I ever going to be able to afford to go VIP to Monaco?”  
  
“When you’re in Formula One, of course.” Nico says, with confidence.

* * *

  
  
The race is over, Barrichello stands on the top step as the Brazilian national anthem pumps over the speakers and washes over the crowd. The atmosphere is electric; a Ferrari has won at Monza, not just that – but they got a 1-2 finish, and that’s reason enough to celebrate.  
Lewis stands up and cheers when Barrichello lifts his arms up to the sky, a huge smile twisting across his face. He picks up the huge magnum of champagne and begins spraying it all over Schumacher and Irvine. Lewis closes his eyes, listening to the roar of the crowd. He wonders if one day, he’ll be up there on the top step at Monza, spraying champagne all over Nico. Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts.  
  
“Hey, Lew, we got to go.” Nico says.  
   
Lewis nods, glancing down at the pale hand resting against the soft material of his t-shirt. “Where are we going?”  
  
“Well, I’m going back to my hotel room for some sleep. Dad got me up at the crack of dawn this morning. He likes to watch the mechanics work on the cars.”  
  
“You have to go already?” Lewis asks the blonde, suddenly downhearted. He’s just got back on good terms with Nico, he wanted to know more about the year they’d spent apart.  
Nico appears to spot the sudden ghost of disappointment across Lewis’s features and worries his teeth between his lips. “I suppose I could stay for a little while...but where are we going to go?”  
  
Lewis smirks. “We’re going to explore Monza racetrack at night, Nico.”  
  
Nico raises an eyebrow and glances at his father, standing a foot away, his brow wrinkled. He taps his watch in distaste. Nico shakes his head and motions for his father to leave. He turns back to Lewis, who suddenly has determination grazing across his features.  
  
“I’m not going to make you back out of this, am I?”  
  
“Nico, this is my first ever time at Monza. It would be rude of you not to give me the tour.”  
  
Nico sighs. “Come with me.”  
  
“The proper tour, mind. None of this ‘This is the pits, this is the toilets’ crap. You come here every year, you must know all the decent spots.” Lewis says, his voice low, as Nico drags him out of the VIP enclosure.  
  
Lewis is a little tipsy – Nico can tell from the slightly glazed eyes and the slight wobble in the teenager’s step – but once Lewis has decided on doing something, there’s no talking him out of it. Lewis wants a tour of Monza. Nico pulls him along by the wrist, smiling when he hears a faint giggle from Lewis’s lips.

* * *

  
  
Most of the crowd have left the track. There’s a few mechanics still scattered around the garages packing things away. The floodlights are still on, illuminating the track to some extent, but it still seems dark. The sky is a rich dark blue, a few stars twinkle in the darkness.  
Lewis walks alongside Nico, their fingers barely brushing, their shoulders knock into one another every so often. He glances around the track with something akin to awe in his eyes. Nico wonders if he’s imagining driving at this track one day, Nico has had that thought several times. He wonders what each bump would feel like when he’s sitting in his car, how the car would turn into the chicane, would it glide or would it shunt sideways for a fraction of a second?  
He feels the bumps of the painted white lines marking out the edges of the track underneath his trainers. He grabs Lewis’s hand and pulls him away from the track towards the woods.  
  
“Nico, where are we going?” Lewis asks, slightly breathless.  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything, he just pulls Lewis along with him, his long fingers still wrapped around Lewis’s.  
  
“Nico, when I said I wanted a tour, I didn’t mean of the woods-“  
  
“Shh, Lew, I am showing you the best part of Monza.” Nico says, there’s a thread of determination in his voice.  
  
He picks through the small copse easily, tugging Lewis along with him. Lewis keeps quiet as he follows the blonde through the trees. The only sound is their ragged breathing and the faint distant noises of the driver’s party from across the other side of the track.  
  
Nico finally pulls himself and Lewis out of the trees and before them is another racetrack, however, this one slopes up heavily towards the sky. It’s a steep banking, with a set of iron railings at the top. Lewis steps out onto the track, gasping into the night air.  
  
“This is amazing.” He whispers, crouching down to brush his fingers against the cool tarmac as though he’s afraid it might disappear.  
  
“Welcome to Pista de Alta Velocità, part of the infamous Monza racetrack. They last used it in the Sixties, nobody but Formula One fanatics come up here and see it. I thought you might want to see it…I remember the first time my dad took me.” Nico remarks, his voice still quiet.  
  
“This is incredible.” Lewis mutters. “I can’t believe that people actually used to race on here. This is amazing…thank you for showing me.”  
  
Nico smiles. “It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?”  
  
Lewis doesn’t reply. He steps forward and begins to climb up the steep banking, determined to reach the top. He scales it quickly and sits at the top, his back grazing against the railing.  
  
“I am the Champion!” He yells, beaming with joy. The light bounces off his braces. Nico smiles, looking up at his best friend.

* * *

  
  
Nico ends up sitting next to Lewis at the top of the Oval racing track. The tarmac is cold through his trousers. He shivers in the cold night. Lewis gives him a small smile and moves closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Lewis didn’t offer that much heat, him been smaller than Nico, but the German appreciated the gesture nevertheless. He sighs under his breath, and lets his head fall onto Lewis’s shoulder. Lewis is hesitant at first, but he soon relaxes into the touch and lets his cheek graze Nico’s soft blonde hair.  
  
“Do you think we’ll ever be here racing together?” Lewis breaks the silence.  
  
“Of course.” Nico’s voice holds confidence. “I know we’ll be together in Formula One, racing here, winning and spraying each other with champagne.”  
  
“How can you know?” Lewis asks, he’s watching the sky, the dark clouds twisting over the moon.  
  
“I know that you and I are good enough for this…and I know we want it enough to get it.”  
  
“But what if we’re stuck in karts- we keep talking about this stuff like it’s definitely going to happen.”  
  
“And it will. We just need to keep racing and being the best we can be. If we stop racing, nobody will be able to see how good we are.”  
  
Lewis sucks his lip in between his teeth. “I guess…I just keep looking at my future ahead and I wonder if it’s going to happen.”  
  
“It’s going to happen.” Nico says and Lewis turns to look at his best friend.  
  
Their eyes lock – brown and blue – Lewis wets his lips with his tongue, never breaking eye contact with Nico. Nico’s blue gaze doesn’t falter. His thoughts race as he surges forward and brushes his lips against Lewis’s.  
  
  
Lewis doesn’t respond. Nico pulls away, ripping his mouth away from Lewis. He stares at his best friend, with his swollen lips, horror spreading across his features.  
  
“Lewis, I’m sorry-“ He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Lewis leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s sloppy and certainly not perfect but Lewis’s lips are soft, warm and pliant against Nico’s own. Lewis glides his tongue gently over Nico’s lips, eliciting a soft moan from the German.  
  
Lewis smirks and gently licks at the corner of Nico’s mouth, tracing over his warm lips with his tongue. Nico opens his mouth and allows Lewis’s tongue to press inside. Lewis’s tongue probes the inside of Nico’s mouth carefully, he’s almost hesitant.  Nico’s hands move up to grasp Lewis’s waist, pulling him further into the kiss. Nico moves his tongue against Lewis’s, they battle for dominance like they do on the racetrack. Lewis sighs gently into the kiss, Nico feels a touch of heat in his groin at the sound Lewis is making.  
  
“Nico,” Lewis whispers against Nico’s mouth.  
  
Nico pulls Lewis closer to him, one of his hands cupping Lewis’s arse through the thin denim of his jeans.  
  
Lewis makes a small noise against Nico’s lips, making the German grin into the kiss. Nico deepens the kiss, tracing each contour of Lewis’s mouth a few times. Lewis’s hands unfurl and slide up to graze against Nico’s jawline, rubbing one of his thumbs gently against the golden stubble growing there. Lewis tries to fight back – pressing his tongue against Nico’s own, attempting to trace Nico’s teeth and the corner of his mouth.  
Nico pulls back ever so slightly and nips at Lewis’s lips with his teeth – drawing a deep moan from the Brit – before he presses his mouth against the slightly damp, golden skin of his best friend. Lewis gasps, stretching his neck out a little more, Nico can taste Lewis on his tongue – sweat, a touch of cologne and some sweetness that he can’t describe – he mouths words against Lewis’s slightly salty skin – before he gently scrapes his teeth against the Brit’s neck.  
  
“Oh god, Nico.” Lewis says, almost breathless.  
  
Nico smiles against Lewis’s neck before he begins sucking on the golden skin, determined to leave his mark. He looks up at the older Brit, his eyes are closed, his head is thrown back and he looks content, his lip caught between his teeth.  
  
“Lew, bitte.” Nico whispers against the skin.  
  
Lewis’s hand moves to brush through Nico’s hair, ruffling the dark blonde strands near his ear.  
  
“Oh god, Nico, you’re amazing.” Lewis whispers into the night.  
  
“Thanks.” Nico replies, his voice barely carrying through the air as he continues sucking on Lewis’s skin, marring it red. He finally pulls away and surveys his handiwork carefully, smirking at the bright red mark standing out like a beacon on Lewis’s neck.  
  
“You finished there?” Lewis grins, his lips are red and swollen and Nico wants nothing more than to capture them once more. Lewis’s eyes are dark with an emotion Nico can’t really place – his pupils are dilated and he’s still panting ever so slightly.  
  
“Of course not.” Nico replies, he keeps his arms around the slighter Brit.  
  
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Lewis says, looking at Nico.  
  
Nico cocks his head slightly. “Do what?”  
  
“Kiss you again.” Lewis smiles and tilts his head to glance up at the younger teenager, the love bite, dark against the golden skin once more comes into view. A reminder of their night.  
  
Nico presses another kiss to Lewis’s lips when Lewis utters the words that send a knot of terror through the German.  
  
“Love you-“ He says it so off-hand, like he doesn’t mean it – Nico rips his mouth away from Lewis, eyes wide.  
  
“Nico, wha-“ Lewis looks at Nico, his eyes clouded with hurt.  
  
“Don’t ever say that, Lewis, just don’t say that.” Nico says, his voice holding a touch of anger.  
  
“Okay, okay. I won’t say it again.” Lewis says quietly, looking down at the tarmac stretched out in front of him. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Nico nods, pulling at a loose thread on his t-shirt to give himself something to do. His hands itch to touch Lewis, to thread the fingers through his own. He wants to feel his lips on Lewis’s neck again, his hips pulling against the Brits, he wants the heat that filled his lower belly and thighs to return. Lewis looks smaller and more vulnerable, he’s curled up, his arms tucked around his knees. Nico feels a stab of guilt coil in his stomach at Lewis looking dejected.  
  
“I just want to know what’s going with you.” Lewis says into his legs.  
  
“What do you mean?” Nico asks the Brit, confused.  
  
“Well, one minute you’re kissing me and then suddenly, you’re pushing me away. It’s confusing-“  
  
“Lewis, I wasn’t thinking properly. You’re my best friend-“  
  
“Yeah, and you are my best friend. But best friends don’t kiss more than once. I don’t understand why we can’t talk about this, about _us_ -“  
  
“There’s nothing to talk about. There is no us. You’re my best friend and that’s it.”  
  
“Stop fighting this, Nico! We’re not just best friends, you don’t just kiss someone like that and pretend like you didn’t feel anything!” Lewis spits, his face is slightly red from anger.  
  
“I didn’t feel anything!” Nico shouts back. “I just…got caught up in the heat of the moment.”  
  
“Keep telling yourself that, Nico. Maybe you’ll believe it someday.” Lewis says, his voice soft as he pulls himself to his feet and walks away from Nico.  
  
Nico watches Lewis’s retreating back and feels sick, he can still taste the Brit on his lips.

* * *

  
  
Lewis doesn’t remember stalking back through the copse. All he can think about is the wetness pricking at the corners of his eyes and the fact that he’s leaving Nico again.  
  
He doesn’t remember letting himself into the motorhome that his dad rented, padding his way past his dad sprawled on the couch, snoring loudly. He doesn’t bother changing, he climbs into his bunk and pulls the covers over his head. His head is spinning. All he can think about is Nico’s last words, how angry they were. He wonders if the blonde meant them. It’s then that the tears come.

* * *

 

Nico stalks back through the trees, gritting his teeth – he’s not sure who he is angry at – whether it is Lewis or himself. His trainers make an angry slapping sound against the tarmac as he picks his way back to his motorhome. He resists the urge to slam the front door, but decides against it, knowing that his parents will be asleep. He passes by their bedroom door and hears the familiar sound of his father’s muffled snoring.  
  
Nico pads into his own bedroom and throws himself down on the bed. He kicks off his shoes and buries his face in his pillow. His head is spinning with thoughts of brown eyes, so hurt. Nico takes two hours to fall asleep and when he finally drifts off, he thinks about Lewis and how hurt he had looked at his words, he thinks about half-bitten lips and the taste of Lewis, it still seems to linger on his tongue.  



	13. 2004 (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis meets somebody who is fundamental to his future when he's at rock bottom. Nico finally gets his dream to drive a Formula One car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while but I've managed to actually get a massive chunk of this bad boy written (it's now over 100,000 words long which is a huge thing for me) but I figured it was fitting for my last published fic of 2015 to be the very first fic I wrote for the fandom.)  
> And yes, most of this stuff did happen - Nico tested a Williams car a few months before Lewis did McLaren testing and Lewis getting dropped by McLaren for two races is also true - it was only after he won in Bahrain they wanted him back! 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**England, 2004**  
  
Lewis sits in his car, the engine is smoking slightly. He’d braked into a corner, taking too much speed with him and he’d just lost control of the car. It had jerked violently to the right and steered off onto the grass. Lewis looks up at the bright blue sky and leans back in his seat. He’d had a difficult year, he’d ended up staying in Formula Renault for another year. He’d bitten his tongue about it; he wanted to stand up and shout out that he was ready to move on. But Lewis knew that wasn’t the proper way to do things – he’d have to prove it on the track. He felt he did that – he won ten races out of the fifteen. They seemed to listen after that and he was able to miss the last two races to race a Formula Three car. It was completely different to anything he had ever driven before – the slightest movement of the steering wheel on a damp patch could send the car jack-knifing through the corner and into the barriers – as Lewis was quickly finding out.  
  
His thoughts begin to drift the longer he sits in the car.  
  
“Nico is going to race in Formula Three.” Anthony Hamilton says absent-mindedly as he peruses his European racing magazine. He skims through the pages as though they bore him. “He’s racing for Team Rosberg – as expected.”  
  
Lewis’s head immediately whips up to glance at his father. Anthony swears he sees a flash of hurt and disappointment in his son’s eyes before he turns back to his video game and hums in response.  
  
“You don’t speak anymore?” Anthony doesn’t want to probe but he’s concerned about the look in his son’s eyes.  
  
Lewis shrugs and doesn’t look up at his father.  
  
“We sort of drifted apart in the year we were apart. I guess he’s different now…he’s going to go on to do great things-“ _And I’m not_ , is on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t say it, he just keeps playing his video game and ignores the twisting sensation in his stomach.  
  
He doesn’t want to think about Nico – he spent a year trying not to think about Nico. Lewis threw himself into his studies and into racing just to forget soft blonde hair brushing against his cheek and dry, chapped lips responding to his own. He doesn’t want to see the look on his father’s face, he’d predicted this all along.  
  
Lewis pulls himself out of his thoughts and out of his car. He leans on the side for a moment, brushing his fingers against the chassis, before he heads back to the pits. His father will greet him there, no doubt with disappointment gracing his face. Lewis finds Formula Three harder than he expected but he’s not going to admit that to anyone. He thinks about the shiny trophy sitting in his father’s living room – from the last year, and he knows he will do it. He’ll just keep training and playing his video games of the circuits he races at to familiarise himself – some racing drivers swear by it – and making sure that eventually, his car becomes an extension of himself.  
  
He finds himself back in the pits, but he can’t stay there for too long, not with his father hovering over him and asking him questions that he doesn’t know the answer to. He ends up leaning on the railings around an obscure part of the track watching the other cars fly around the chicane – it’s one of his favourite corners on the entire track as it’s one in which it is notoriously difficult to take speed into and hit the apex. He scuffs his racing shoes on the grass beneath his feet, not caring about the stains.  
  
“Hey,” A voice speaks up behind him. It sounds foreign, young, but familiar.  
  
He’s heard a similar accent before. He turns around. A young boy, a few years younger than Lewis himself, still in braces and with ash blonde hair is standing before him, smiling.  
  
Lewis raises an eyebrow. “Hey.”  
  
“I guess you wanted to be by yourself…” The teenager speaks in almost clipped English. Lewis can’t place his accent.    
  
He opens his mouth and closes it again. The blonde smiles at him.  
   
“I like this chicane too. It’s horrible to drive on though.”  
  
And with those words, the blonde teenager suddenly catches Lewis’s attention. “You race?”  
  
“It’s my first year…I was the one who crashed a little earlier on. My dad…he was not happy at all. I guess I am…licking my wounds? Is that how you say it?”  
  
Lewis smiles. “My dad chewed me out too…well, he gave me the disappointed look and I couldn’t be bothered to watch the rest of the race from the pits. It smells down there.”  
  
The teenager laughs. “I find the smell quite relaxing…though it does give me a headache after a while.”  
  
“I just don’t like the pits…I want to be out driving.” Lewis admits, he leans his back against the railings.  
  
“Don’t we all?” The teenager replies.  
  
Lewis smirks at his response, he likes this kid. He reminds him of him when he was younger. He just wants to drive and win, nothing else matters, there’s no complications.  
  
“Sorry…I have been rude and I am not introducing myself. I’m Sebastian Vettel.” He holds out a hand for Lewis to shake.  
  
_Vettel_. German. Like _Nico_.  
  
Lewis takes it, smiling. “I’m Lewis Hamilton.”  
  
“I’ve heard of you before.” Sebastian says. “You won the European Karting Championships a few years ago. You are the British boy. I have seen your photograph on the wall.”  
  
“Yeah…that’s me.”  
  
“They say you’re going to race for McLaren in a few years. I spend a lot of time on racing circuits.” Sebastian doesn’t look jealous at all. He looks interested, his pale blue eyes rake over Lewis’s smaller form.  
  
“They…do?” Lewis asks, his eyes widening.  
  
“Of course. You are an excellent racer. I read what Michael Schumacher said about you. He’s my hero, so you know, he must be correct.”  
  
Lewis had forgotten about that; a year ago, he had raced against Michael Schumacher in karts and although, the German had placed in front of him on the grid, he still made comments about Lewis’s driving to a racing magazine afterwards. Lewis had appreciated the thought; however, his rivals on the track seemed to bump him a little more after the publication of the article. It was almost as if they were proving that they could beat the best driver on the grid – the one that Michael Schumacher had noticed – it was a difficult and lonely time for Lewis. He doesn’t like to remember it.  
  
Sebastian picks up on Lewis’s discomfort.  
  
“It is so lonely sometimes, isn’t it?” He slides down next to Lewis, their shoulders gently graze against one another.  
  
Lewis resists the urge to flinch – it had been a year since anyone had touched him, he hadn’t been near anyone since Nico. His thoughts keep drifting back to the blonde German. He shakes his head gently.  
  
“Sometimes. I know we have family and they do anything for us…but they don’t understand, they never would understand the rush, the feeling when you’re out on the track and nothing else matters.”  
  
“I understand completely.” Sebastian says, his voice smaller. “Nobody understands but the people you’re trying to beat. Even then, they’re trying to find a weakness…”  
  
Lewis looks at the blonde. “Hey, you want to go and get some pizza before the inevitable?”  
  
Sebastian looks surprised by the invitation. His blue eyes widen a fraction.  
  
“Sure.” He agrees, standing up and walking away with the Brit.  
  
They end up holed up in a little Italian restaurant a few miles away from the track – Lewis drives them in his little banged up Vauxhall – shovelling slices of pizza into their mouths. Lewis tries hard not to think about another German with blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

* * *

  
Nico slaps on the steering wheel of his Formula Three car and curses. His engineer had reported that one of the cylinders on his gearbox had blown and that he was going to have to come into the pits. He was hoping to mount a title challenge in this race – he was starting from pole position after all – he watches as Robert Kubica – Kuba – passes his car and flies around the first corner, braking hard and fast.  
  
Nico steers his car into the pits, and pulls himself out of his car, ignoring the look of disappointment on his father’s face. He slinks back into the garage, yanking down his overalls and tying them around his waist. The simple action of doing so makes memories from years ago stir up inside him. He thinks back years ago, to Lewis with his overalls tied around his waist, his thin t-shirt showing off his light muscle tone, to how Lewis’s laugh sounded and the curl of his lips when he smiled.  
Keke mentioned Lewis every so often – it was he and Anthony who had stayed in touch after all these years – Keke told Nico about Lewis staying in Formula Renault and that he had scored a podium finish in all but two races, he’d even skipped out of the last two races to test drive some Formula Three cars. Nico had considered calling the Brit but he’d dialled the first three numbers before he’d hung up.  
  
“Nico?”  
  
Nico shook his head to dispel the thoughts of his best friend. “Yeah?”  
  
“You okay?” The blonde strolled out of the garage and stood in front of him, cupping his face in her hands.  
  
“I’m fine, Vivian. I’m just annoyed that I had to retire. I should have won the race.”  
  
Vivian looks up at him with her clear blue eyes and presses a kiss to his nose. “There’s still time to do that. All the best racing drivers…they don’t win all the time.”  
  
Her words hit Nico in the chest. He remembers when Lewis said those words to him. He ignores the crushing sensation in his chest and kisses her gently on the lips. She kisses back, smiling at him as she does so. He’d met Vivian a year ago, fresh from winning his title and a few weeks after he’d grazed lips with Lewis. She was kind, sweet, she was everything good and he obviously didn’t deserve her. He inhaled her sweet scent and felt the curve of her lips against his cheek.  
  
“Stop being grumpy.” She mutters.  
  
“I’m not being grumpy.” He retaliates, smile still on his lips.  
  
“You’re always grumpy when you’re thinking.” Vivian shoots back.  
  
“I am not.” Nico says. Her lips burn against his cheek.

* * *

“We want you to stay in Formula Three for another year, Lewis.”  
  
“That’s not happening. I want to go into GP2.” Lewis argues. His father sits by his side in the McLaren offices, watching his son stand over Ron Dennis’s desk, dark eyes narrowed with annoyance.  
  
Ron leans back in his chair. “You’re not ready for GP2 yet, Lewis. We recommend that you stay with Manor for another year. Just have a think about it.”  
  
“Sorry, Mr Dennis, but you’re not going to change my mind…I’ve been here for three years now. I don’t think I can develop any further here.”  
  
“It’s been a difficult year for you, Lewis. We haven’t had the results we both wanted and knew you were capable of achieving. I realise you’re upset but I really think you need to consider all the options available-“  
  
“What do I have to do to show you that I am ready for GP2 now?” Lewis asks the McLaren boss, he can see his father biting his lip out of the corner of his eye.  
  
 He thinks about how much his father has sacrificed, the three jobs a week, the driving him all around Europe in a crappy little motorhome and eating Pot Noodles, just to keep him racing. In that moment, he almost agrees with Ron and takes the new contract, for the sake of his father. Lewis seems to slump against Ron’s desk and glances at his father, his dark eyes full of fear.  
  
He’s just about to admit defeat when Anthony speaks up. “I agree with Lewis, it’s stupid to keep him in Formula Three because of a bad season, of which Lewis wasn’t wholly responsible.”  
  
“Mr Hamilton, please consider-“  
  
“I’m sorry, Mr Dennis but the only person’s opinion I am going to consider is my son’s on this matter.”  
  
Ron doesn’t say anything else. Lewis and his father walk out of the office, side by side. Lewis waits until the door closes before he breaks down. His father is silent for a moment, his hand firmly on Lewis’s shoulder.  
  
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Lewis says in between sobs.  
  
All he and his father have worked for has come down to this. All of those late nights fiddling with the kart, all the money they spent on spare parts, his father coming home at three in the morning from his second job, Lewis and him sat at the rickety table eating cereal so they could afford to travel to the next race.  
  
“Don’t be sorry, son. Don’t ever be sorry.” Anthony suddenly envelopes his son.  
  
Lewis melts against him, his head hits Anthony’s shoulder. He sniffles into the starchy fabric; his thoughts flow through his mind. He can’t think properly, all he can think about is the contract on Ron Dennis’s desk, the one that remains unsigned, will remain unsigned.  
  
“But the races in Macau and Bahrain-“  
  
Anthony lets his hand fall over Lewis’s hair – he’s growing it out a little now – brushing his fingers over the short, dark strands. “Son, we’ll be fine.”  
  
“Maybe I should…maybe I should apologise to Ron and just sign the contract. Stick it out for one more year, who knows-“  
  
“Lewis.” Anthony says, his voice is soft but stern. “Son, you are not signing some damn contract just because you want to make me happy and him happy. You sign the contract if you think it’s the right thing to do. But it’s not the right thing to do.”  
  
“But dad, we can’t afford to-“  
  
“You’re right, we can’t afford to do this on our own. We will find a way, Lewis.”  
  
“But Dad, I just feel like I’ve let you down-“  
  
“You could never let me down, son.” Anthony says, gently. Lewis finally pulls his head away from his father’s shoulder and looks up. “Everyone makes sacrifices sometimes…I did, your mother did, everyone at some point in their life has made sacrifices. You are about to do the same. I’m behind you every step of the way. If you think your contract with McLaren isn’t as important as your development then that’s fair enough. It’s your decision.”  
  
Lewis nods, tears in the corners of his eyes.

* * *

  
“I called Williams and they agreed to let us go and have a look around.” Anthony says, after a week of phone calls and writing emails and contacting everyone and anyone.  
  
They end up at the factory early on a Saturday morning. The co-founder, Patrick Head is standing outside in the early morning sunshine with a huge smile on his face. Lewis climbs out of his father’s car and walks over to where Patrick is standing. Pleasantries and handshakes are given and Patrick leads them through the glass doors at the front.  
  
“I am very sorry that Frank himself is not giving you the tour. He’s very busy at the moment…but he was very interested in your call. He said he’s had his eye on you ever since McLaren signed you up to their Young Driver programme.” Patrick says, his voice is smooth. Lewis follows his father, glancing around at the reception area. It’s clean, all smooth lines, all chrome and steel.  
  
“Yes, well, Ron Dennis decided last week to drop Lewis-“ Anthony begins.  
  
Patrick clicks his tongue in sympathy. “That is unfortunate. I am sorry to hear that. As I said before, Frank is very interested in you and has been following your career closely…now, if you’d like to follow me to the shop floor…” Lewis and his father follow Patrick silently, glancing around.  
Lewis tries to imagine himself behind the wheel of the Williams – the chassis was white, like McLaren – he tries to imagine what it would be like to brake tightly through the corners in Monaco in a Williams car. McLaren have been a part of his life so long, he feels slightly empty without them behind him.  
  
Two weeks later, Lewis is travelling back from Macau after a poor race out there - he’d crashed out in the second lap- when he is given some good news and some bad news. The good news is that his father has managed to find some money from somewhere so that Lewis can travel to Bahrain and compete in the race out there. The bad news is that whilst Williams were interested in him driving for them, their engine provider, BMW, were less convinced by his capabilities and refused to fund his future career. Lewis doesn’t cry at the news, he bites his lip and thinks ahead to Bahrain – he’s ready to prove everyone wrong.  
  
He packs his bag that night and rereads his Senna book.  


* * *

  
It’s raining in Hockenheim. Nico finds that this time he doesn’t care – he doesn’t care that the sky is steel grey, he doesn’t care that the rain is coming down in sheets, he doesn’t care that he can barely hear anything over the din of water hitting the carbon fibre. He’s finally sitting in the cockpit of a Formula One car – and not one that belonged to his father.  
  
It feels perfect underneath his hands, he runs a gloved hand over the bodywork – the shiny white chassis is wet with rain. He leans back in the seat, the cockpit is slightly smaller than what he is used to in his Formula Three car and he’s reclining a little more than he’s used to but none of that matters, he’s sitting in a Formula One car.  
  
His thoughts pulls him back into a daydream, back to a month ago. He’d been at home in Monaco, it was the off season.  
   
“Nico.” His father calls out from his study. Nico puts down the motoring magazine he’d been leafing through and stalks through the house to his father’s study.  
  
“Yes, father?” Nico asks, leaning in the doorframe.  
  
Keke is sat at his mahogany desk, he’s got a cigarette between his lips, blue smoke twisting around him. There’s a pen clutched in his other hand and he’s got the phone pressed to his ear, nodding every so often. His blue eyes lock on his son and he holds up a finger, instructing Nico to wait.  
  
Nico raises an eyebrow as his father continues speaking to the person on the other end of the line, in English. Nico is used to hearing his father speak English – he spoke English to every person he interacted with in the paddocks at Formula One races, except Mika, but he’d never heard his father annunciate every letter, Nico can practically hear the persuasion in every word.They talk for a few more minutes before Keke ends the calls, thanking whoever is on the other end of the line profusely. He turns to Nico and plucks the cigarette out of his mouth, he’s wearing a huge smile on his face.  
  
“Come in and sit down.” He instructs Nico. Nico raises an eyebrow and steps into the office, sinking into the huge burgundy leather chair in front of his father’s desk.  
  
“That was Williams Racing on the other end of the phone.” Keke says, taking a drag of his cigarette. It’s almost a stub – the amount of time he’s been on the phone – Nico feels his chest tighten. _Williams_. Williams Racing – as in, as in-  
  
“As in Williams Racing Formula One team?” He finally says, his voice is dry. His heart pounds against his ribcage.  
  
“That would be the team, yes.” Keke smiles. “They want you to test drive one of their cars ready for the new season.”  
  
Nico is silent for a moment, he’s trying to process his thoughts – Williams have just called his father up and asked if he can test drive a real Formula One car for them – he inhales sharply.  
  
“They just called and they said they said they had an opening for a fourth driver at Williams. They were very impressed with your Championship win and they’ve invited you to drive one of their cars. They said that they wanted to give an exceptional driver a taste of Formula One.”  
  
Nico leaps onto his father, narrowly missing the cigarette, and hugs him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, Dad.”  
  
“Don’t thank me, Nico. You achieved your Championship on your own, you’re the one who made them take notice.”  
  
Nico nods, his lip wobbling. He’s so lucky. He’s going to drive an actual Formula One car.  
  
“Nico.” He’s torn out of his thoughts by his father’s voice. Keke leans on the side of the chassis, his tweed jacket skimming the bright white bodywork.  
  
“Keep focused, driving one of these is very different to driving a Formula Three car.” He says, quietly. There’s pride in his eyes.  
  
“I won’t let you down.” Nico whispers back.  
  
He slides his helmet on and starts the car. Keke smirks at his son and stands up, walking towards the entrance of the garage. He stops there and salutes as Nico eases the car out into the pit lane.  
  
Nico whoops out loud as he presses his foot on the accelerator, the car glides around the track easily – he oversteers on the first corner but he expects this – the car reacts to the slightest jolt of the steering wheel. Nico finds it difficult to examine the track for his braking points and to make sure he hits the apex on the corners and check everything on the steering wheel. He’s never seen so many buttons in one place. The car whips into the next corner, it’s slightly sideways – Nico feels the shudder through the floor of the car but commits to it.  
He feels like he’s flying.  Underneath his helmet, he’s wearing a huge grin on his face and it’s one that will take a while to be wiped off. He eases the car into the last chicane easily, he brakes a little earlier and softer than he’s used to – he doesn’t want to ruin the car so early on – and speeds down the last straight.  
  
He does about twenty laps, gradually gaining in confidence and braking later and harder, committing to the corners. He presses his foot down on the accelerator through the straights of the track, urging the car to go as fast as it possibly can. It’s slightly selfish but he wants to see what it feels like to travel at almost 150mph. It’s a wonderful feeling and Nico grins as he feels the G Force hit him, pressing him back into his seat.  
  
He screams out loud, the wind whips around his helmet, drowning it out.  
  
His father is waiting for him when he enters the pits. Nico pulls off his helmet and grins at his father. “That was fucking awesome.”  
   
Keke smiles.


	14. 2004 (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico feels torn between Vivian and his growing love for Lewis. Lewis as ever, remains in the dark about the whole thing. Jealousy rears its head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Lewis's birthday and since neither of my other fics is anywhere near publication, I thought I would celebrate by posting a chapter of our favourite people. There's a slight bit of Lewis/Seb, there's literally a kiss, it's all to spice things up.  
> And yes, Lewis can play the guitar. There's a video of him playing Wonderwall, not sure if he's ever sung it to Nico.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Bahrain is hot, hotter than any other place Nico has been before. (And he’s been to a few countries in Africa – never to race though.) He’s already sweating – sweat is soaking into the back of his t-shirt. He hasn’t even changed into his overalls or gotten into the cockpit of his car yet to see how it feels in this heat. He’s not looking forward to that. He pulls his sunglasses further down onto his eyes to escape the glare of the sun, the white ball rising in the sky.  
  
His father just went out to check the temperature of the track. Nico sips on a bottle of water as he sits in the garage of Team Rosberg. He’s got the air conditioning going at full blast but it seems to make no difference. He glances around the garage, watching the mechanics carefully work on his car. _His car_. It still seems unreal – that he has his own car that he drives around for a living. One of the mechanics carefully polishes the chassis of the car, his cloth dancing over the Team Rosberg emblazoned on the side.  
There’s times that Nico looks at his own name written all over his car like a brand. He catches sight of a motoring magazine and flicks through it absentmindedly. Vivian has come with him this time – she’s off in the paddock buying smoothies.  
  
“And then my dad asked the guy where he could get fish and chips.” A voice dances past his garage.  
  
A familiar voice, he knows that London accent from anywhere. He throws down the magazine and stalks out of the garage, blood pumping in his ears. The humidity of the desert air hits him in the face as he leaves the garage.  
  
“Lewis!” He shouts out, sand clogging his eyes and making them water.  
  
“Nico?” The familiar voice – Lewis – replies. Nico blinks and suddenly, Lewis is standing before him, one of his arms slung around another teenager with messy blonde hair.  
  
He looks like _me_ – Nico thinks for a second, pushing away his thoughts. He surveys the teenager that once was his best friend. Lewis has changed so much over the last year. He’d aged well; He’s taller – but still shorter than Nico and the boy currently draped over him – his hair is slowly growing out a little; it’s slightly tousled as though Lewis has been running his fingers through it. It looks nice. Lewis has finally got his braces removed, his teeth are white and finally straight; he gives the boy next to him a brief smile. His fashion sense still leaves something to be desired – he’s wearing an old McLaren t-shirt, but this time it’s fitted to his form, showing off the lean muscle tone of his stomach and back. His ever-present jeans are no longer baggy and tatty – they’re a pair of charcoal grey ones, skinny and clinging to every inch of his hips. Nico hopes that the Brit doesn’t turn around – he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle seeing Lewis’s arse in those tight jeans.  
  
“How have you been doing, man?” Lewis asks, his voice is still the same as it was years ago, slightly smoky with rounded vowels.  
  
“I’m fine. Driving in Formula Three now.”  
  
“For your dad right?” The way Lewis says it makes the curl of guilt resting inside Nico’s belly intensify.  
  
“Yeah. You look good.” Nico replies, attempting to change the subject.  
  
“Thanks. It’s amazing how many girls you get after your braces come off.” The blonde teenager snorts at Lewis’s comment. “Shut up Seb.” He turns back to Nico. “Sorry, I am being rude. This is Sebastian Vettel. He likes to drive up on my arse on all way around the racetrack. He’s not racing today, lucky for him.”  
  
Sebastian slaps Lewis’s shoulder. “He’s lying. Don’t listen to him. I go nowhere near his skinny, slow arse.”  
  
“You’re the liar, Sebastian. Oh, and this is my –he pauses – friend, Nico Rosberg. He drives in Formula Three, he used to drive up my arse too- “  
  
“Oh, you two used to race together as teammates, did you not?” Sebastian asks, his pale blue eyes sparkle with excitement.  
  
Nico and Lewis remain silent, glancing at one another.  
  
“You both raced for the same team at one point. I remember, I think I went to one of those races, it was in Germany. I was cheering for Nico, obviously…with him being German.”  
  
“Traitor.” Lewis hisses under his breath, smiling slightly. “I can’t believe it, so whilst we were in karts, you were a baby watching us.”  
  
Sebastian shakes his head.  
  
Nico watches the two of them interact and fights away the jealousy gripping his chest. Lewis has never shown interest in anyone in all the time Nico has known him – girls never really seemed to swarm around Lewis, he was too short and skinny for them to notice. However, Nico doesn’t recall Lewis been overly friendly with anyone but himself, Sebastian and Kuba. He narrows his eyes at the two teenagers – the one with dark skin and dark eyes, contrasting with the other with pale eyes and blonde hair.  
  
“Nico?” A familiar feminine voice calls out from behind him. He turns slightly to see Vivian in her floppy sunhat, holding two passionfruit and mango smoothies. She smiles at the scene before her. Nico glances at Lewis who is glancing at Vivian with confusion in his dark eyes.  
  
“Oh, thank you. Vivian, this is my best friend, Lewis Hamilton, and his friend Sebastian Vettel. Guys, this is my girlfriend, Vivian.”  
  
Nico keeps his glance trained on Lewis. Lewis flinches for a second, Nico spots the slight slump of his shoulders, he can see the mask glaze over Lewis’s face as the Brit plasters his biggest grin on his face.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Vivian. You must be special for Nico to bring you here…he usually drives people away on race weekends.”  
  
“Really?” Vivian laughs. “It’s nice to meet you too, Lewis. I must admit, I haven’t heard much about you…you know what this one is like.” She elbows Nico in the stomach.  
  
Lewis smiles back. “He’s the silent and brooding type.”  
  
Nico chances a glance at Sebastian. He watches the blonde glance at Lewis, his look is almost tender. His fingers brush Lewis’s neck gently as though to offer him comfort.  
  
“Nico, you alright?” Lewis looks at him with concerned eyes.  
  
“Yeah. I think my dad will want to go over some things with the car.” Nico says, he watches Sebastian’s fingers graze against Lewis’s shoulder.  
   
He walks back to his garage and sits down, reading through the data his father has left out. He can hear Vivian make her apologies as she follows him back to the paddock. He has to stop thinking about Lewis and Sebastian and concentrate on the race.

* * *

  
  
It’s forty five minutes until qualifying begins. The Bahrain heat beats down over the garages and the cars. Lewis grimaces at the sweat sticking to his back and rolling down his neck from his helmet as he tries to focus hitting the apex into the eighth chicane as it dips down in the desert. He doesn’t want to get sand into his tyres, he’s trying to push heat into them gradually. He brakes suddenly into the eighth chicane, later than his last braking point reference and he feels the car take all the speed into the corner. He grins as his tyre touches the white line marking out the edge of the track but it doesn’t go over and touch the sand. He accelerates down towards turn nine, the grin never leaves his face.  
  
He manages to press through turn ten without any problems, he just misses the apex but this run is about dragging heat into his tyres – he accelerates and decelerates along the straight track towards turn eleven. He brakes hard and fast into the corner and weaves through turn eleven and twelve to approach the hairpin bend of turn thirteen. He can hear his mechanic’s voice in his ear, slowly telling Lewis that he is doing well at getting the heat gradually into his tyres and he’d like Lewis to box at the end of this lap.  
  
Lewis pumps down on the accelerator going into the penultimate straight, weaving up and down, changing his speed to really test the car – it feels good and Lewis really loves this circuit – he loves the changes in altitude and the downwards force exerted on him as he drives. He rounds the final corner and hits the apex easily, he drives down towards the pit lane.  
  
Sebastian is in the garage, leaning on the side of the wall. He’s smiling. Lewis parks his car by the side and stays inside the cockpit for a moment, checking his steering wheel and a few things that he’d monitored through the tyre warming up session. He eventually pulls off his helmet. The team flock around the car, pressing the heated mats on top of the tyres. Sebastian is suddenly by his side, leaning on the side of the car.  
  
“I watched through the garage feeds. You race well.” He says, the smile is still on his face.  
  
“Shame you decided not to race, Seb. You would be eating-“  
  
“Your dust, I know.” Sebastian finishes.  
  
Lewis shakes his head and laughs. He feels eyes on him. He glances up and sees Nico across the other side of the pits. His dark blue eyes are boring into Lewis and Sebastian, still leaning on the side of the car. Lewis glances back at Nico, but the German’s glare doesn’t falter. Sebastian asks Lewis a question and the Brit turns his attention back to the blonde German by his side.  
  
The blue eyes keep watching the pair as Lewis hands over his helmet – still sunburst yellow like Senna – to Sebastian and giggles at something the German says as he pulls himself out of the car. The two teenagers walk away from the garage as Lewis’s car is pulled into the pits to be checked over.

* * *

  
  
Nico is distracted to say the least. He pulls into the pits, feeling annoyed with himself. He drove the most laps out of any of the other drivers to get a good feel of the track. He presses his foot down on his accelerator down the straight towards turn fifteen, to build some heat into his tyres. He wants to figure out the perfect line for racing to ensure that nobody builds enough speed to overtake him before he pulls into the corner. His dad is standing outside the Team Rosberg garage, he’s not puffing on a cigarette for once – the mechanics have probably told him there’s too much flammable liquid on the floor – his arms are folded and there’s a curve of a smile across his lips.  
  
Nico pulls up and begins running through his checks. The mechanics flock around the car, applying the tyre heating pads, they check the chassis and begin pressing cool air into the brakes. Nico sighs heavily as he pulls off his helmet, he pulls the steering wheel out of the car and leaves his driving gloves on the front of the car. He just leans back in his seat for a moment, feeling the slight breeze against his sweaty hair.  
Nico hears a distinctive laugh and glances over to where Lewis’s garage is. Lewis is sitting in the cockpit of his own car, whilst the mechanics work around him. Sebastian is leaning against the shiny chassis of Lewis’s car and Nico suddenly feels nauseous. Lewis looks up and meets Nico’s gaze head on – liquid brown eyes bore into dark blue for a fraction of a second before Sebastian asks the Brit a question. Nico feels his chest twist as Lewis turns to the blonde, a smile quirking on his lips. He grits his teeth when he sees the British teenager press his helmet into Sebastian’s hands, their fingers brush against one another. They both walk away from the car, bumping shoulders and giggling.  
Nico feels hollow.  
  
“So you want to tell me what happened between you and Lewis?” Vivian sits down next to him in the garage. Nico sips from his bottle of ice water and pushes a hand through his already mussed hair.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says quietly.  
  
Vivian rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right, because you turn into the Hulk when you see your best friend get hugged by some cute guy all the time, right?”  
  
“Vivian-“  
  
“Listen, Nico. I am not stupid. Something between you and Lewis happened at some point. You obviously never closed the door on it.”  
  
“Vivian, stop digging. We fooled around a bit when we were younger. We spent our teenage years together-“ He shrugs. “It’s over and done with now, we’re older and more mature. I was just confused a little today…he’s never been interested in anyone before now.”  
  
“Right, and that explains why you wanted to snap Sebastian’s little head off.”  
  
Nico shakes his head and stands up. “I’m not discussing this anymore right now. I need to focus on the race.”

* * *

  
  
Lewis ends up getting pole position. Nico is second. Lewis pumps his fist into the air a few times. Nico feels the cold breeze against his back when he pulls himself out of the cockpit, the sweat that was clinging to his overalls now worked against him. Bahrain is a place renowned for his hot and humid nights, of which tonight is no exception. Lewis’s overalls too cling to him, his golden skin showing off a thin layer of sweat under the floodlights.  
  
He walks over to the Brit. Lewis catches sight of the German and pulls him into a hug – which Nico was not expecting at all – Nico relaxes into the hold, Lewis’s lightly toned arms around his shoulders, he’s practically on his tiptoes, his nose buried in Nico’s neck.  
  
“Nico, you were great.” Lewis says against his neck, the ghost of his breath makes Nico tingle inside.  
  
“Thanks. You were better though.” Nico whispers back. Lewis glances up at him. Nico looks back, taking in the Brit. His eyes look almost golden amber under the dark blue sky of Bahrain.  
  
“I missed you.” Lewis is barely audible over the cheer of the crowd.  
  
“I’ve been here the entire time.” Nico replies, his voice brushes against Lewis’s cheek.  
  
“I thought you hated me. I thought that you didn’t want to-“ Lewis stops for a moment, biting his lip.  
  
“Just enjoy your moment, Lewis. We’ll discuss this later on, we’re here for another couple of days.  We can talk.”  
  
“I’ll hold you to that.” Lewis says and he smiles at Nico – it’s his proper muted smile, the one that Nico knows is his true smile.  
  
He smiles back, giving the Brit a quick squeeze before they break apart. Lewis ignores the dancing sensation in his stomach as he watches Nico disappear into the cheering crowd, all he wants is follow the German.

* * *

  
  
The race is anticlimactic in the end. It’s a hot and humid night, as it was at qualifying. Nico begins to sweat before he even changes into his overalls. He goes through different strategies with his father the night before – Keke wants him to attempt to overtake Lewis on the first corner.  
However, Nico isn’t able to take the upper hand going into the first corner. Lewis manages to push him out and off the track, his tyres going over the hard sand lining the track. He grits his teeth – he can feel every grain of hard sand becoming embedded into the rubber as he brakes into the next corner just as hard and fast as Lewis. Lewis messes up on the way into the fourth chicane, he overcooks his steering ever so slightly and misses the apex, allowing Nico to gain a tenth of a second on him.  
  
Nico ends up sitting on Lewis’s tail end for the entire race – he tries to overtake the Brit a few times over the course of the race, gaining on Lewis’s lead every time he makes a mistake, but Lewis just seems to have the upper hand; he’s controlling every aspect of the race and he knows it. Nico knows how much concentration the Brit must be putting in to retain the lead. Lewis brakes and commits to every corner, he pushes his car to the absolute limit through the various straights on the back, weaving over the track and taking as much of the road as he possibly can to avoid an overtake by Nico’s car.  
  
Lewis crosses the line as the victor. Nico is only two tenths of a second behind him. Nico spots Anthony Hamilton in the pits, cheering, tears already beginning to fall down his face. He doesn’t want to glance at his own garage and see his father’s face. He does one lap around and drives straight into the area reserved for the top three cars. He’s fiddling with the controls in his car when Lewis finally pulls into the enclosure. Lewis pushes his fist up into the humid Bahrain air, the crowd cheer. He quickly extracts himself from his car with ease, slotting his steering wheel back into the car. Nico fiddles with the clasps on his seatbelt as he watches the Brit stalk across the paddock, almost cat-like. He walks with a certain confidence after races. Nico wishes that he could do the same.  
  
Nico watches Anthony jump on his son, pulling him into his arms, his chin resting on top of the yellow helmet. He can almost hear Lewis’s distinctive laugh, muffled by his father’s shirt. He watches as Lewis pulls off his helmet, his hair flattened by sweat, his eyes sparkle under the floodlights. His eyes meet Nico’s- golden brown look into dark blue – and he smiles at the German. However, Sebastian suddenly appears in front of Lewis and his dark eyes focus on the blonde before him, the smile stays on Lewis’s face as he hugs Sebastian tightly.  
  
Nico turns away from the two teenagers, he ignores the twisting sensation in his stomach. It hurts, of course, it does. He wants to see Lewis happy – but there’s something about the way Lewis looks at Sebastian, his eyes seem to shine and it makes Nico feel sick.

* * *

  
There’s a driver’s party afterwards. It’s in one of the outbuildings, close to the garages. It’s a small room, very intimate, the lights are low and the alcohol is flowing. Nico is sitting in a corner of the room, Vivian is by his side talking animatedly to another young driver, Susie, with a glass of something in her hands. Lewis is sat across the other end of the room, he’s slumped on one of the leather couches. Sebastian is at his side, giggling into his neck. Lewis is smiling gently at the blonde, there’s a bottle of beer in his hand and his arm is gently slung over Sebastian’s shoulder.  
  
“I can’t believe you won.” Sebastian whispers to Lewis. They’ve both been drinking for a while, Sebastian had come back from the bar earlier with two bright blue cocktails and they’d downed them in one go. Lewis had ordered a few pitchers of alcoholic drinks for the two of them. They sit on the table, two are empty and the other two are half full.  
  
“Why can’t you believe that, Seb?” Lewis laughs, the room is spinning slightly.  
  
It’s too warm, too humid. The Bahrain heat is stamping its way onto the night. Lewis pulls off the plaid shirt he is wearing, leaving him in a thin black vest top. A few wolf whistles echo around the room- generally, from where Kuba is sitting. Lewis smirks and flips the bird at the Pole before settling back down on the couch.  
  
“I don’t know…your car has been hit and miss this year. I thought it would let you down.” Sebastian shrugs, his pale blue eyes are slightly cloudy, they are a touch less sharp than they usually are.  
  
“But I was in pole position.”  
  
“I know and I watched the whole race from the screens. You did brilliant out there. You proved everyone wrong.” Sebastian says, letting his head fall against Lewis’s shoulder.  
  
“God, you are like a kitten when you’re drunk.”  
  
“I am German, Lewis. I don’t get drunk.” Sebastian replies, shaking his head. His blonde hair sticks against Lewis’s cheek.  
  
“Right…I’ve heard that before. Nico used to say that all the time-“ Lewis stops.  
  
Sebastian cocks his head slightly. He looks younger than his seventeen years.  
  
“What is the deal with you and Nico?” The blonde asks.  
  
“There is no deal with me and Nico.” Lewis fires back, he takes another gulp of his beer. It burns his throat as it goes down.  
  
“Right.” Sebastian snorts against Lewis’s shoulder. “Is that why he’s looking over here like he wants to kill me?”  
  
Lewis glances up and scans the room. His dark eyes settle on Nico. He’s sitting across the other end of the room; Vivian is by his side talking to another girl. Nico looks good; he’s done something with his hair, it’s fluffy and lightly tousled. He’s wearing a fitted plain black t-shirt and black jeans. There’s a pint in his hand and he’s staring right at Lewis and Sebastian. Narrowed dark blue eyes lock on brown. His eyes hold something – an emotion that Lewis isn’t sure of – they look slightly pained. Lewis holds Nico’s gaze for a few moments before he looks away. He glances back at Sebastian who gives him a knowing look.  
  
“That doesn’t mean anything. He probably wants to come over and have a chat to us but he doesn’t want to leave Vivian on her own.”  
  
“Right, has anyone told you your excuses are the shittiest I’ve ever heard?”  
  
“Well, it’s not my fault that you believe them.” Lewis shoots back, grinning.  
  
Sebastian grins back. He looks up at Lewis. The Brit stares back at him, he can feel the ghost of Sebastian’s breath on his cheek. They move closer to one another, one of Sebastian’s curls brushes against the side of Lewis’s nose. Lewis’s stubble grazes Sebastian’s chin. Lewis exhales and is just about to press his lips against Sebastian’s when a voice rings out.  
  
“Lew!” It’s Kuba, the little shit is grinning widely as he makes his way over the Brit, an acoustic guitar clutched in his hands.  
  
Lewis sighs heavily as he moves away from Sebastian. “What is it, Kuba?”  
  
“Well, you know since you’re the Bahrain Champion-“ he pauses to allow for the round of drunken cheers ring through the room. “and we all know you can play the guitar…so I think it’s time for you to serenade us with a little song or two.”  
  
The crowd cheer as Kuba presses the guitar into Lewis’s hands. Lewis sits upright, his hands wrapping around the musical instrument.  
  
“Kuba, you fucking dick.” Lewis whispers at the Pole. “I was in the middle of something, if you hadn’t noticed.”  
  
“I noticed.” Kuba’s grin is like a razor. “And this is payback for all the times you stopped me getting some…by the way, I like Oasis.” He swaggers back to the other side of the room, and Lewis swears that he sees the Pole lift his glass towards Nico and wink.  
  
The crowd goes silent as he strums the first chord.  
  
“Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world…” He prompts his fellow drivers who latch onto the song easily and begin singing along.  
  
Sebastian is at his side, he gets some of the words wrong but he grins and sips at his drink, watching Lewis’s dark eyes scan over the room. Lewis continues strumming the strings of the guitar, making sure he hits every note perfectly. The other drivers – most of them intoxicated- sing along, their voices more or less drowning out the low and delicate notes of the acoustic guitar. Lewis stops singing halfway through and focuses on playing. Kuba ends up standing on top of a table by the end of the song, belting out that he can’t stop believing.  
  
Lewis strums the last chord and grins at the crowd. “So, for one night only, Kuba, here’s Wonderwall.”  
  
He begins strumming out the infamous opening chords. The crowd let out an almighty roar before they fall silent.  Lewis realises they are waiting for him to open the song so he hesitantly begins to sing along with the music.  
  
_Today is gonna be the day that they’re gonna throw it back to you  
_  
Kuba is already climbing back on top of the table, waving his beer around.  
  
_By now you shoulda, somehow, realised what you gotta do_  
The crowd is gradually beginning to join in, their voices are mere whispers. He glances across the room, locking eyes with Nico as he sings the next line;  
  
_I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now  
  
_ Nico holds Lewis’s dark gaze but he’s unreadable, his fingers are firmly wrapped around his drink. Vivian is still by his side, she’s not singing along, her blue eyes are focused on Nico.  
  
Lewis lets himself get lost inside the song’s verses, he keeps his gaze resting on Nico as he strums gently through the song. The crowd have more or less taken over the singing part, but Lewis still mouths every word.  
_Because maybe  
You’re gonna be the one that saves me  
And after all  
You’re my wonderwall  
_  
Nico’s gaze remains on Lewis. He looks ethereal from a distance; the dim light inside the building is falling upon his blonde hair, illuminating it. He has a look of wonder, mixed with something else that Lewis cannot comprehend. He finally looks away from the blonde German and down at the guitar strings. When he strums the final chord and glances back up, he realises that Nico and Vivian are gone. He places the guitar gently down on the table in front of him as the crowd cheer for his performance. He grins, takes a sip of his drink and settles his arm back around Sebastian. His chest aches. He feels dizzy but he tries to push the feeling of nausea away.

* * *

  
“Nico! Wait!”  
  
Nico pauses just outside the door when he hears Vivian’s voice. He swipes his hands across his eyes and squares his shoulders.  
  
“Nico, please don’t run away.”  
  
“Vivian-“ Nico begins. He spins around and faces her. She’s got a small smile in the corner of her mouth. Her curls are damp. She shakes her head and grabs his hand, pulling him outside. The air is humid but it seems to cool the two teenagers down. The blare of the music pumps out into the evening air.  
  
“Viv-“ Nico begins again.  
  
“No, you listen to me, Nico Rosberg. I don’t want to hear any excuses.” She says as she lets go of his hand.  
  
“Viv, you know I love you-“  
  
“I know you love me in your own way. But you love him more, I think you always have.”  
  
“I…it’s complicated between us.”  
  
“Then stop thinking for one minute.” Vivian says softly. “You’re overthinking this too much. If you stop for one second, you’d realise that Lewis isn’t screwing with you to put you off your race game or anything like that. You told me that you have known him a long time?”  
  
“I’ve known him since we were six years old.”  
  
“Tell me more.”  
  
“We met in Monaco at the Grand Prix. Our fathers have known each other since before we were born. I remember, he was short with all these wilds curls, was completely in love with Senna, the racing driver. Anyway, he drives past us and Lewis runs towards him like a madman. I followed him and tried to stop him. Senna stopped us both and he gave Lewis an autograph. Through our childhood, we met every now and then. We spent most summers together. We were best friends, we did everything together.”  
  
“And how long have you loved him?” She asks gently. Her blue eyes look up at the German.  
  
“I don’t know…” Nico admits. “I denied it for so long, I just thought we were friends, that’s all I thought I wanted to be…I think the first time I saw him as something different was when we were fifteen. We were in Portugal and we talked about how different our lives were. We fell asleep together on the same bed. I just didn’t know what it was, what the feeling was…But you’re right. I love him. I’m in love with him.” His last words are merely a whisper.  
  
“You were scared, that’s understandable. You thought that he was just messing with you…but you didn’t tell him, you didn’t say to him that you thought it was a game. You have so much history and you both don’t seem to know what it is that you feel for one another. But I know one thing for certain; you don’t want to be just friends with him…I saw the way you looked at him just now.”  
  
Nico looks at her, his blue eyes wide with panic. “Viv, I’m sorry-“  
  
She waves her hand at him. “Stop apologising. You can’t help who you fall in love with.”  
  
Nico is speechless.  
  
“Besides, I think I’ve got my eye on someone else... Nico, I just want you to know that I am not angry at you. I know I am well within my rights to be, but the way you look at each other…the love I can see from both of you. Lewis loves you just as much. I saw how much emotion was in his eyes when he played that song. He played it just for you. I don’t want to be in the middle of that. You should give Lewis a chance.”  
  
“But what if it doesn’t work out?”  
  
“If it doesn’t work out, you can always be friends. I mean, you’re doing a pretty good job on that front.  Don’t sacrifice your own happiness for fear.”  
  
“So I guess you’re breaking up with me?” Nico asks.  
  
There’s a curve in Vivian’s lips. “Of course, I am. Consider this the termination of our relationship. Now go and get that man.” She says, playfully, pulling him into a hug.  
  
Nico sighs in relief against her, her blonde hair grazes against the side of his face and tickles his nose. Her arms around his shoulders, her fingers tenderly rubbing circles on his back. He needed the comfort from her, he needed her reassurance. They finally let go of one another. Nico moves to go back into the room.  
  
“Oh, and Nico?”  
  
“Yeah?” Nico asks, glancing back at her.  
  
“I want to be the bridesmaid at your wedding.” Vivian says, she winks and turns on her heel, going back inside.  
  
Nico chuckles at her humour and leans against the wall for a moment, letting his thoughts settle. Ten minutes ago, he had been dating Vivian and looking at Lewis like a lovesick puppy, now Vivian had set him free and given him some invaluable advice. He sighs happily. He’s admitted it to someone and it feels better already. Now, all he has to do is admit it to the person in question. He takes a deep breath and opens the door.  
  
Nico’s blue eyes fall on Lewis. The Brit is wrapped around Sebastian, he’s in the German teenager’s lap, giggling at something he just said. Sebastian’s arms are wrapped around the slighter Brit, his fingers dancing around the waistband of Lewis’s skinny jeans. Nico watches as his best friend’s head falls against Sebastian’s neck. He grits his teeth when Sebastian lifts up Lewis’s chin and presses their lips together. Nico turns on his heel and leaves the building, his heart shattered.  



	15. 2004 (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian sets the record straight for Nico regarding his feelings for Lewis, Vivian makes a decision for Nico. The boys give into their desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally finished the 2008 chapter on this fic so there's technically four 'years' left to write but there's still a long journey to go so what better way to celebrate than to finish off a year?   
> Very little of this chapter is canonical, contains allusions to sex but that's about it.
> 
> Enjoy :)

“He left, Seb. He didn’t even come and talk-“ Lewis mutters under his breath. He tosses another shot of vodka back. He moves to pick up another, but Sebastian grabs it before he can drink it.   
  
“No more.” He slurs. “You’ll feel like shit in the morning…and besides, the more you drink, the more you flirt. You’ll end up in bed with Kuba.”   
  
Lewis throws his head back and laughs at Sebastian. “I’ll flirt with you instead-“  
  
Before Sebastian can stop him, Lewis is climbing into his lap. He’s slightly unsteady and Sebastian has to hold onto Lewis’s hips to steady the Brit, who is happily swaying and making himself comfortable in the younger German’s lap.   
  
“Lew- you’re drunk, c’mon.” Sebastian says as the Brit grinds in his lap. The Brit is moving so much that two of Sebastian’s fingers end up dancing on the waistband of Lewis’s jeans.  
  
“I am drunk,” Lewis says, he’s giggling now. His dark eyes are glazed over. “But I don’t care!” He leans forward and attempts to kiss Sebastian but he misses and ends up against the blonde’s chest.   
  
Sebastian tightens his arms around the Brit, looking at him with worry.  
  
“Lew, are you okay?” He’s worried.  
  
 Lewis isn’t responding anymore. He’s still giggling against Sebastian’s chest. The blonde German lifts Lewis’s chin up to check his eyes. Lewis’s eyes are dark and glassy but there’s a streak of mischief in them, a streak that intensifies as Lewis lurches forward and presses his lips against Sebastian’s. Sebastian doesn’t have time to react to the dry, soft lips of his friend. Lewis giggles into the kiss, his eyes are closed. Sebastian however is glancing against the room to where he’s certain Nico Rosberg was just standing.   
However, he’s gone, the door swings back and forth. Sebastian rips his mouth away from Lewis’s.   
  
“Lewis, we can’t do this. You’re drunk.” Sebastian says, gently. “Nico was-“  
  
“I don’t care about Nico! Why does everything have to be about Nico?” Lewis says, pouting. His arms are still wrapped around Sebastian.   
  
“Lew, I’m pretty sure he saw us kissing.”  
  
“I don’t care.” Lewis repeats.  
   
“Right, that is it.” Sebastian hisses, he doesn’t usually lose his temper but he’s had enough of spoilt drunk Lewis tonight. “I’m taking you to see Nico. Or rather, I want to go and see Nico and you are coming with me.” He pushes himself upright, taking the Brit with him. He steadies Lewis under his shoulder before they begin the walk to catch up to Nico.  
  


* * *

  
Nico is walking towards his motorhome, his hands are thrust in the pockets of his leather jacket and his head is looking down at the path in front of him. His mind is spinning, partly from the alcohol, partly from the images currently assaulting his mind. All he can think about is Sebastian’s hands wrapped around Lewis’s waist, his fingers dancing over the waistband to graze against golden skin. Lewis’s lips touching Sebastian’s, his tongue grazing over the mole just under Lewis’s lip. He closes his eyes and ignores the wetness in the corners of his eyes. He wonders if he should find Vivian and tell her it was all a big mistake. His chest clenches and he takes a deep breath but it doesn’t help, the Bahrain air is thick in his throat.  
  
“Nico!” A familiar voice calls out – the accent thickens around his name. He grits his teeth, he wipes his eyes as he spins around.   
  
“Listen, I understand you’re a nice guy and you’re just trying to be nice-“ His voice cracks. “I just don’t want to be near you right now… I don’t want to hear your excuses.” He opens his eyes and sees Sebastian, his hair is all mussed and shining under the floodlights. His lips are swollen and his pale blue eyes are wide.   
  
However, it’s not the sight of Sebastian that makes Nico stop short. It’s Lewis wrapped around the younger teenager.  The Brit’s dark eyes are trained on Nico, dark and glazed over, his face is pressed against Sebastian’s chest and his skinny jeans are dangerously low on his hips.   
  
“It’s not excuses I’ve come here to give you… I just want you to know that I’ve no interest in coming between you and Lewis.”  
  
“Right, so you just kissed him for no reason? Just to keep his lips warm?”  
  
Sebastian’s eyes darken with anger. He pulls Lewis closer to him, Lewis it seems, has nothing to say, he’s pliant and submissive; the alcohol has finally got inside his veins. He’s quiet, his dark eyes drooping.   
  
“No…” The blonde hisses. “He kissed me, and if you hadn’t noticed, he’s drunk. He decided to sink a few shots after you left. You said you were going to talk to him and you left him…what did you expect?”  
  
“Don’t blame this on me.” Nico fires back. “I am not responsible for Lewis, I didn’t pour that alcohol down his throat.”  
  
“I never said you did. Look, I didn’t come here, half dragging Lewis to give you a speech. I just came here to explain what you saw.”  
  
“I know what I saw.” Nico says, coldly. He rubs at one of his eyes.  
  
“Listen…I don’t really know you and I guess that I’ve probably made the wrong impression straight away. I’m just a friend of Lewis’s, I know that sometimes it might look like something else, but it’s really not-“ He stops for a moment, pressing a hand to Lewis’s face to check his temperature.   
  
“We’re just affectionate…as you are. Lewis has told me so much about you and I couldn’t wait to meet you. But you just seemed to hate me from the beginning. I haven’t done anything wrong. Lewis is a naturally affectionate person, you know that, you know that more than most people… and tonight, tonight he was upset. He was upset that he hadn’t spoken to you and that you had been with your girlfriend all night. He just proceeded to get himself totally drunk and that’s when he kissed me…not to make you jealous, but to stop the loneliness.”   
  
Sebastian’s voice is quieter, it’s barely a whisper as his gaze never leaves Nico’s dark blue eyes.   
  
“I…” Nico stops for a moment and surveys the young German. He somehow looks older, harder when his brow is furrowed.  
  
“I’m sorry…I just, I guess I was jealous that he likes you more than he likes me.” Nico says it, his voice is barely a whisper.  
  
“He would never like me more than he likes you. He loves you…even I can see that.”  
  
Nico opens his mouth and closes it again. “I know he does…but I feel I can’t love him in the same way.”   
  
Sebastian is about to reply when Lewis groans a little against his chest. The two blondes glance down at the Brit, Lewis twists against Sebastian’s hold, mumbling into his shoulder.   
  
“I guess we better take him back to his trailer.” Sebastian says, gently. Nico nods and grabs Lewis’s other hand to help the younger German get Lewis back to bed. Lewis giggles and pitches forward into Nico’s chest.   
  
“Lew, stop it, you’re drunk.” Nico scolds as Lewis snuggles his face against Nico’s chest.  
  
“But you’re so soft…and warm, Nico.” Lewis slurs, barely incomprehensible.   
  
“Lewis, come on, you need to go to bed.” Sebastian pipes up, Lewis is still holding one of his hands.  
  
“I don’t want to go to bed, Seb!” Lewis mumbles against Nico’s chest. “I want to stay here with my two favourite people.”  
  
Sebastian chuckles at Lewis. Lewis cuddles closer into Nico’s t-shirt, closing his eyes.  
  
“No, don’t go to sleep.” Nico says, lifting up Lewis’s chin.  
  
Lewis’s head falls against his fingers. Nico glances worriedly at his best friend. Lewis’s eyes are half open and glassy, he looks confused. His face is a mixture of emotions; half frustrated, half broken. He’s looking at Nico like he’s the greatest thing in the world, his cheek rubs against Nico’s fingers.  
  
“He’s really drunk.” Nico says, his voice full of worry.  
  
He needs to get Lewis to his bed. He begins to pull the Brit gently towards the trailer park. Sebastian follows, a half smile on his face, worry dancing across his features.   
  
“He’s really out of it isn’t it?” He remarks, his pale blue eyes focused on the Brit leaning on Nico.  
  
Nico allows a small smile to grace his lips. “Lewis has always been a lightweight…it comes being British and all.”  
  
Lewis mutters something against Nico’s chest.   
  
Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “How long have you two known each other?”  
  
“Since we were six…we grew up together. Raced in karts together, went to the Grand Prix, we did everything together.”  
  
Sebastian smiles at the older blonde. “Wow…and you stayed friends through everything?”  
  
“We had our ups and downs…I mean, we were each other’s first kiss.”  
  
Sebastian’s eyes widen. “How old were you?”  
  
“Old enough.” Nico replies, readjusting his hold on Lewis. He glances down at the Brit tenderly, his other hand moving to gently grasp Lewis around the waist.  
Sebastian follows Nico’s hand with his eyes. “You really care for him.”  
  
“So do you.”  
  
“We are just friends…he only has eyes for you. We were only ever friends. Lewis is just affectionate...he likes contact. I have no problem with that.”  
  
Nico nods, finding himself agreeing with Sebastian. “You know, you’re more mature than I gave you credit for. I just thought you were some little kid who just wanted to use him-“ He glances down at Lewis. “But I was wrong and I am sorry for judging you.”  
  
“It’s okay.” Sebastian says. He stops, looking at his shoes. He grinds his shoe into the dust on the ground.   
  
“Hey-“  
  
Sebastian looks up. “Thank you for everything, Sebastian. I hope that we can be friends. Thank you for helping me with him and talking some sense into me.”  
  
Sebastian gives him a small smile – it’s not the one that Lewis receives but it’s still something – and pats Lewis on the shoulder before he walks in the opposite direction.  
  


* * *

  
Nico decides to take Lewis to his own trailer – it’s closer and besides, his father is a heavier sleeper. Nico’s trailer has the added bonus of having a lack of siblings – Nico doesn’t want to wake Nick up by barging in with Lewis at…he checks his watch, three in the morning. When did it get so late? He manages to get Lewis through the door with no problems – the Brit is pliant and submissive in his arms. His eyelids are drooping, hiding his chocolate brown eyes from view. Nico gently lays Lewis on his bed. Lewis rolls over onto his side, his t-shirt rides up slightly exposing a thin strip of golden skin. Nico leans down and begins to pull off Lewis’s jeans. Lewis chuckles lightly but he lets Nico do what he needs to do.  They’re a struggle to get off; the skinny jeans seem to cling to the Brit like a second skin.  
   
“You’re an idiot sometimes.” Nico says softly to his best friend.   
  
Lewis twists his foot slightly and sighs into the bedcovers.   
  
Nico decides to leave Lewis’s t-shirt on, he doesn’t want to wrestle Lewis out of the thin material. Lewis doesn’t move when Nico moves from the bed and pulls off his own t-shirt. His jeans quickly follow. He’s brushing his teeth when Lewis finally speaks.  
  
“I’m sorry, Nico.” He whispers, his eyes are still closed and his expression is pained.  
  
“What for?” Nico asks through a mouthful of toothpaste.  
  
“For…being drunk and for being…an idiot.” Lewis slurs, his fingers stroke over the bedcovers half-heartedly.   
  
Nico sits down beside the Brit and gently pushes a hand through his hair. Lewis leans into the touch, the stubble on his chin grazes against Nico’s hand.  
  
“I’m still mad at you…I don’t care how cute you look when you’re drunk.”  
  
“But, we’re still friends right? I need you in my life, Nico.” Lewis opens his eyes. Nico almost wishes he didn’t – the dark brown gaze has flecks of gold; there’s hope and hurt reflected in them.   
  
“Hey…” He whispers, his face immediately softens. “I’m mad but that doesn’t stop us being friends...I was an idiot too. I’m sorry, Lew. I missed you-“   
  
Lewis presses a gentle kiss against his ring finger.   


* * *

  
Lewis wakes up the next morning with warmth at his bare back, the heat curls against his skin. His head is pounding and his mouth is dry. His thoughts are still swimming, he remembers snatches of what happened last night, he can remember the after-party, he remembers sitting with Sebastian and Nico glaring at him for half the night. There’s a pair of arms wrapped around his midsection, one hand is resting lightly on his stomach. His feet are tangled with someone else’s. Biting his lip and hoping that he hasn’t done anything stupid, he glances down at the floor seeing his t-shirt cast aside on the floor. His other clothes are neatly folded on the chair. He lifts his head and turns around to look right into the sleeping face of Nico Rosberg.   
  
Nico is still flat out; the usual crease in his brow is smoothed out and he makes him look younger. He looks peaceful. His blonde hair is all mussed and it fans out all over the pillow, like a halo. Lewis itches to touch it. He lets his gaze dance over his best friend’s face, it’s the first time he’s seen Nico up close in a few years and the young German has changed. His eyelashes are still a dark blonde, they hide the dark blue eyes that Lewis is so familiar with. His lips are paler than usual; but they are still full. Lewis wants to trace over the small scar just underneath his lips. There’s a little more stubble than Lewis has ever seen on Nico before, it’s a dusting of gold-brown brushing against his jaw. Lewis reaches out and gently brushes his fingers against Nico’s jawline. The hair is not as soft as he was expecting, it’s prickly under the pads of his fingers. Nico’s breath ghosts across Lewis’s fingers.  Then suddenly, Nico moves in his sleep, groaning under his breath, his arms tighten around Lewis. Lewis freezes, his fingers still brushing Nico’s cheek.  
  
“Nico?” He whispers gently.   
  
Nico makes a noncommittal sound. Lewis drops his fingers but keeps his gaze focused on the German.  
  
“Nico,” Lewis hisses with more conviction.  
  
The slight frown line appears on Nico’s forehead and the German begins to stir, groaning as he does so. “It’s too early in the morning, Lew. Go back to sleep.” He mutters the last few words into Lewis’s shoulder.   
  
Lewis sighs heavily as Nico seems to drift back to sleep easily. He moves closer to Lewis if that were possible; Lewis suddenly feels a part of Nico, swollen and ready, pressed up against him. He panics and attempts to wriggle out of the German’s hold. Nico whines a little, the wrinkle appears in his brow. Nico finally stirs out of his sleep, his hair is mussed and there’s a wrinkle on his cheek. His eyes are half lidded.   
  
“Did we have sex last night?” is Lewis’s first question.   
  
Nico groans against the pillow. “Why do you always assume we had sex? You just had too much to drink and then I carried you to my bed.”  
  
“Because neither of us are wearing many clothes.” Lewis points out.  
  
“Can’t we cuddle?” Nico jokes, a smirk curling over his lips.   
  
“I’m not just bloody cuddling with you. You’re half naked.”  
  
“Never stopped you before.” Nico whispers, cuddling himself against Lewis’s back. “Now shut up and go back to sleep.”  
  
Lewis doesn’t. He just thinks about the dull ache in the back of his head and how dry his mouth is.   
  
Nico sighs heavily after a moment’s silence. “You’re not going to go back to sleep are you?”  
  
“Not until you tell me what really happened last night.”  
  
“You really don’t remember _anything_?” Nico asks, his tone is one of disbelief.  
  
“Should I? Did I do something stupid?” Lewis asks, his brown eyes are dancing.  
  
“Well, you got absolutely drunk and then you kissed Sebastian.”  
  
“I kissed Sebastian?” Lewis says slowly, as though he’s processing the information. He buries his face into the covers. “Oh my god, I kissed _Sebastian_.”  
  
“You did.” Nico says, shortly.   
  
“Oh god, I should find him and apologise. I’m such an idiot. I am never drinking again.” Lewis says, he moves to slip out of Nico’s arms but Nico doesn’t budge.   
  
“Just…” He says, quietly against the curve of Lewis’s ear. “Just stay here for a moment and relax. Just stay here with me.”  
  
Lewis nods, settling back against Nico. Nico slips his arm back around the Brit and rests his chin against Lewis’s shoulder. The two teenagers lay in Nico’s bed, the covers tangled around them, their thoughts are of one another.  
  


* * *

 

Sebastian is sat in the sun at one of the Bahrain cafes, drinking what looks like iced tea. Lewis slides into the seat opposite him.  
  
“We need to talk.” He says to the blonde German.   
  
He glances up at the waiter who has suddenly appeared; and orders a Coke. He slumps down again once the man is left. Sebastian eyes the Brit, whilst slurping on his iced tea through a straw. “What do we need to talk about?” Sebastian asks, stopping halfway through sipping.   
  
“About last night.” Lewis says, smiling at the waiter who slides a Coke in front of him.  
  
Sebastian keeps a straight face. “What about last night? Was it the drinking part or the kissing me part?” There’s the beginning of a smirk dancing across his lips.   
  
“Oh my god, so I did kiss you last night. I thought Nico was just messing with me when he told me that this morning.” Lewis says, avoiding eye contact. He slumps across the tabletop, his drink untouched.  
  
“We did kiss last night. It was very sloppy and I honestly thought you would treat me better than to not even give me tongue.” Sebastian teases. “Then you went off with Nico and left me.”  
  
“Oh god, I am so sorry Seb. I’m such an idiot when I’m drunk.” Lewis says, mortified. He can’t believe he got so drunk that he tried it on with Sebastian.   
  
Sebastian shrugs. “It’s okay…I think I really pissed Nico off though. I didn’t expect to be yelled at for kissing you.”  
  
Lewis’s cheeks go slightly red. “Oh god, I’m sorry. He gets really annoyed when I get drunk-“  
  
“I don’t think that’s what he was annoyed about, Lewis.” Sebastian admits. Pale blue eyes lock on brown. “Listen,” The blonde says gently. “I shouldn’t say what Nico said to me last night, but if I give you some friendly advice? Talk to each other. You need to air things out in the open.”  
  
“I tried talking to him…I admitted how I felt but he said that he doesn’t want to lose what we have.”  
  
“I think you should talk to each other. I can see that you have feelings for him, and from the jealous boyfriend act he was pulling last night- is that how you say it? when we kissed, I’m willing to bet that he feels the same.”  
  
“You’re so smart.” Lewis says, smiling over the top of his Coke.  
  
“Thanks, but don’t expect me to want to discuss your sex life when you and Nico get together.”  
  
“You’re disgusting, Vettel.” Lewis says.   
  
Sebastian laughs.   
  
“So did you and Nico make passionate love last night?” Sebastian leans back on his chair, smirking.  
  
Lewis nearly spits out his mouthful of Coke. “What are you talking about? When did you suddenly become so honest?”  
  
Sebastian chuckles. “I saw Nico carry you back to his motorhome. Chivalry – is that how you say it? It was sweet how he made sure you were okay.”  
  
“We didn’t have sex.” Lewis says, leaning back on his chair and folding his arms.  
  
Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “I was so sure that last night was going to be the night when you both stopped being idiots.”  
  
“We’re not being idiots, Seb, we’re just friends.”   
  
Sebastian snorts. “Right, so if you keep telling yourself that, you’ll be able to convince Nico that you’re not crazy about him. You deserve to be happy, Lew.”  
  
“I am happy, Seb. I just…he made it pretty clear that he didn’t want to be with me, he told me that he wanted to be just friends.”  
  
“He said that last night?” Sebastian looks confused.  
  
“No, he said that like a year ago…we ended up kissing in Monza, shut up-“ He pauses at Sebastian’s smirk. “We’ve kissed a few times over the last few years. He just always pushed me away afterwards.”  
  
Sebastian makes a noncommittal sound into his iced tea. “Well, I think you should still talk to him. His feelings may have changed.”  
  
“He has a girlfriend.” Lewis says, his voice is almost resigned.   
  
“You spent the night in his bed with him, no doubt cuddled up against his very manly chest and you still think he’s got a girlfriend?” Sebastian shakes his head fondly.   
  
“Seb, please don’t-“ Lewis says weakly. His heart is slamming inside his chest.   
  
He doesn’t want to be responsible for Nico breaking up with his girlfriend and Nico been unhappy. He wonders if Nico is back at his motorhome with Vivian, the two of them with voices raised, Nico’s face reddening as it always does when he’s angry. He imagines Nico’s eyes darkening in anger, the crease on his forehead rippling, his lips seem to become fuller.   
  
“Sorry.” Sebastian holds up his hands as though to surrender. “I’m just saying…I don’t think you caused any problems. As I seem to recall, Vivian grabbed Nico for a quick talk whilst you were busy drinking shots of vodka. I like her. But I don’t think she’s the right person for Nico.”  
  
“There isn’t a right person for Nico.”  
  
“There is and he’s sitting right in front of me.” Sebastian sounds earnest.   
  
The two sit for another hour, sipping on another drink and enjoying the baking heat beating down on the pavement before them.  
  


* * *

 

Nico is packing his bags and surveying his unmade bed, he’s still picturing Lewis in it this morning, curled up next to him. There’s a light knock on his bedroom door and then Vivian appears in the doorway, she leans against the doorjamb. She glances at the unmade bed with an eyebrow raised.  
  
“So you had fun last night?”  She asks the blonde, unable to keep the smile off her face. “Did you tell him-“  
  
“No.” Nico says, his tone clipped as he throws his t-shirts into the suitcase in front of him. “He was so drunk and he was eating Sebastian Vettel’s face when I went back in.”  
  
The playful demeanor drops immediately. “Oh, Nico-“  
  
“It’s all okay now, I think…Sebastian explained everything to me. Lewis was very drunk. We still need to talk properly.”  
  
“You two are such idiots.” Vivian rolls her eyes.  
  
“So are you seriously…are you okay with this? I mean-“ Nico bites his lip.  
  
Vivian waves away his question. “I’m okay, Nico. I mean, I just knew the second you looked at each other…I know that sounds cliché but I didn’t want to get in the middle of that. I want you to be happy, Nico.”  
  
“You’re the best, Viv.”  
  
“I know, I know. You better talk to your man, Nico.”  
  
“He’s not my man.” Nico returns the barb but Vivian is already walking away, a smile on her lips.   
  


* * *

  
There’s a knock on the door later that evening. It’s a quick knock, Nico barely hears it. He’s towelling his hair dry, still wet from the shower when he hears the dull thud against wood. Nico opens the door, expecting to see his father or Vivian standing there, however, he’s surprised when he sees Lewis standing outside the door. The Brit is wearing one of his caps, hiding his hair. He raises an eyebrow at Nico in his boxer shorts, skin still damp from the shower.  
  
“I can come back later if you want-“ He begins.  
  
“No, no, it’s fine, I’m just drying my hair. My parents are out somewhere, visiting some relative. They’re staying overnight.” Nico waves him into the room.  
  
Lewis goes into Nico’s room and sits in the middle of the bed. He glances around the room, his gaze lands on Nico’s still half packed suitcase.   
  
“I thought I would come and see you before you left. I guess we have some things to talk about.”  
  
Nico nods, rubbing the towel through his wet hair. “I guess we do.”  
  
“First off, I am so sorry for kissing Sebastian, I ended up finding him today and apologising to him like seventeen times. I don’t like Sebastian in that way and I’m sorry that you thought that I did.”  
  
“I talked to Sebastian this morning.” Nico says, pulling the towel off his head. His blonde hair is standing up in tufts, it’s fluffy and golden.  
  
“Oh?” Lewis says, he looks nervous.   
  
“We’re okay. I think we got off on the wrong foot. I think we’re friends…I guess I saw you kissing Sebastian and-“  
  
“I’m sorry for that-“ Lewis cuts in.   
  
“Lew, let me finish, please. If I don’t finish, I’m afraid that I won’t say what I need to say…” Nico says, he throws the towel over a chair and leans on the desk.   
  
Lewis worries his lip between his teeth and glances at the German. Nico continues “I was jealous…I didn’t like seeing you and Sebastian together and I thought that you were together. That’s why I left, I’m not going to lie about it. Then Vivian caught up with me and we decided to part ways…she realised that I was in love with someone else and it wasn’t fair on her.”  
  
Lewis’s eyes snap back up to Nico, who begins to pace. “I’ve had a weird couple of years…I mean, we both got into Formula Three and we started racing and we lost touch. I hated it, I missed not talking to you at the races and having a laugh. You were right, everyone in Formula Three is very up themselves as you would say. Then we kissed at Monza and we fell out…I’m sorry for being an arsehole about that. I just wasn’t ready for that-“  
  
“Nico, it’s okay.” Lewis grabs Nico’s hand and pulls the German onto the bed next to him. His warm thigh brushes against the blondes.  
  
“No, it’s not, Lewis. I mean, we’ve grown apart and I hate it…we used to be so close. You were my best friend…you _still_ are my best friend. I just don’t know what these feelings are and I don’t want to lose you like I have for the last year.”  
  
“Nico, you’re not going to lose me. You never lost me in the first place. I figured you were just mad at me for kissing you.” Lewis grabs hold of Nico’s hand, tangling their fingers together.   
  
“I wasn’t mad at you for kissing me. I liked kissing you. That’s why I was so mad when you kissed Sebastian…because I wanted to be kissing you.”  
  
“What are you saying, Nico?” Lewis says, his voice cracks.   
  
“I’m saying…I…I want to be the one kissing you-“ Nico doesn’t finish his sentence as he closes the gap between himself and Lewis, locking their lips together.   
  
Nico traces his tongue over Lewis’s slightly dry lips. Lewis seems to squeak into the kiss, allowing Nico to gently coax the Brit’s mouth open. Nico smirks as he gently presses his tongue against Lewis’s. Lewis moans into the kiss as Nico’s hands move to encircle the Brit, his hands resting on the curve of his arse. He squeezes gently, laughing into Lewis’s mouth. Lewis’s tongue dances against the corner of Nico’s mouth, probing gently.   
  
Nico pushes the Brit gently back onto the bed, his leg folds over Lewis’s, and he ends up climbing on top of the slighter teenager. He pulls off Lewis’s hat with one hand. Lewis moans gently into the kiss as Nico moves his hands to tug on the hem of Lewis’s t-shirt. Lewis lifts his hips as Nico swiftly removes his t-shirt, revealing his bare chest to the German. Nico glances down Lewis’s torso, his hands move to dance over the golden skin. He tweaks a nipple between his fingers, smirking when the brown nub hardens. Lewis gasps, his breath ghosts against Nico’s neck. Nico lets his fingers graze over the unmarred skin, Lewis’s mouth moves to his neck.   
  
“Oh god, Lew.” Nico whispers as the Brit’s teeth graze against his neck.   
  
Lewis’s lips are white hot against his skin. His teeth nip at Nico’s neck, marring the pale white skin. Nico smirks, pressing kisses at Lewis’s crown, lips teasing over the small curls around his hairline.   
  
“Nico,” Lewis whispers against the German’s neck after a breath.  
  
Nico feels his boxers swell when he hears the low British tones. Nico moves his hand from Lewis’s torso to gently graze along the hemline of Lewis’s jeans. Lewis stops and glances at him, his eyes are liquid black, dark with desire. Lewis lifts his hips up and Nico pulls off his jeans, he tries to do it in one swoop but one of Lewis’s legs gets caught and the Brit almost pitches into the German. Nico catches Lewis in his arms, grinning as their bare torsos brush against one another, the heat burning their skin.   
  
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nico asks Lewis, gently. His breath brushes against Lewis’s ear.   
  
Lewis nods, he looks very nervous. He brushes a golden strand of hair out of Nico’s eyes, Nico feels the slight shake in his fingers.   
  
“Lew, we don’t have to do this if you do want to.” Nico says, he keeps his voice soft.   
  
“I want to, Nico. I want to be with you…I’ve dreamt of this moment.”  Blush floods his cheeks as the words leave his mouth.  
  
Nico smirks at the blush. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Lewis’s cheeks, his lips pepper over the small freckles that litter the Brit’s skin. His lips move down to catch on the corner of Lewis’s mouth. Lewis slowly moves his arms to slide around Nico’s neck. His bare torso once again brushes against Nico’s.   
  
“I can’t believe I’m here with you.” Lewis continues, his voice is slightly hoarse.   
  
“I can’t believe it either…I wanted to do it for so long.” Nico whispers back, not daring to raise his voice.  
  
 He presses kisses to Lewis’s skin, he gently moves towards Lewis’s soft lips. Lewis has his eyes closed; Nico wants to kiss the dark, think eyelashes. Lewis moves one of his arms to tangle in Nico’s hair, Nico lets out a little noise as the Brit’s fingers tug gently on the still slightly wet golden blonde strands.  
  
“I love your hair.” Lewis mutters against Nico’s lips.   
  
Nico smiles against Lewis’s skin. “I can’t believe that we’re doing this.” His hands move from around Lewis’s waist, his fingers dance underneath the waistband of Lewis’s boxer shorts. He rips his mouth away from Lewis’s.  
  
“I can’t believe it’s taken us so long to do this.” Lewis responds.   
  
He groans as Nico’s hands move down and graze his swollen, leaking cock. “Oh god, Nico.” He whispers as Nico’s hand grasps him underneath the thin fabric, one of his fingers dances down over his balls.  
  
 Lewis leans forward slightly, his mouth brushes Nico’s neck. The German smirks and palms Lewis’s dick in his hand. Lewis lets out a little hum and sucks a lovebite onto Nico’s neck as the German grazes one of his fingers along his shaft.   
  
“You’re beautiful.” Nico whispers.   
  
His finger rubs over the slit. He begins to pump Lewis’s dick, it’s slow at first, but it’s having an effect – Lewis’s head drops onto Nico’s shoulder and he pants out Nico’s name again and again. Nico feels his own dick swell at the sight of the Brit open and ready for him, naked bar his boxer shorts, face full of ecstasy.   
   
“Lewis, I need to-“  
  
Lewis nods against Nico’s chest. “There’s a handful in my bag.”  
  
Nico gives him an inquiring look.   
  
“My dad gave me the talk a few weeks back because I was talking to someone and he suddenly gave me a handful of these-“ Lewis finishes.   
  
Nico removes his hand from Lewis’s boxer shorts. He releases Lewis and gets off the bed, moving to where Lewis’s bag is. Lewis raises an eyebrow as he watches Nico rifle through it. He feels buzzed; like every fibre in his body is on fire. He slips out of his boxer shorts and throws them onto the floor. He watches Nico’s arse bob up and down in front of him, the thin material of his boxer shorts clings to the curve of his arse.   
  
Nico fiddles around for a moment or two before he finally grabs a handful of condom wrappers out of Lewis’s bag. He pulls one free and slinks back up to the bed, smiling. He shimmies out of his boxer shorts, tugging them off in one fluid motion. Lewis takes in Nico’s naked form, he finally glances over Nico’s manhood. Lewis notices his fingers are shaking slightly.  
   
“Hey,” He whispers, smiling at the blonde. “It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared, I’ve never done this before with anyone.”  
  
“Me neither.” Nico says, exhaling deeply. Lewis reaches out and grabs hold of Nico’s hand, his fingers gently rubbing over the closed fist.   
  
“Are you sure about this, Nico?” Lewis asks, his eyes look almost golden.  
  
“I’m sure.” Nico whispers back. He settles down in between Lewis’s legs. The two teenagers both glance at one another. Lewis licks his lips. They both surge into another heated kiss, Lewis’s hands come up to wrap around Nico’s face, Nico tears open the condom packet.  
  


* * *

  
When Nico wakes up, it’s still night. The room is dark, the window is still open, allowing the thin drapes to blow gently in the evening air. Lewis is by his side, in a deep sleep. Nico can just make out Lewis’s relaxed face and bare shoulders in the faint moonlight. He flicks on the nightlight, flooding the room suddenly with light. Lewis grunts a little and shifts away. Nico takes in the sight of his – were they still best friends or something else? – asleep. Lewis looks different when he’s sleeping. He looks younger; there’s no lines around his eyes. His lips are slightly parted; they’re still swollen from the kisses that Nico had given them earlier. The bedsheet is wrapped around his lower half, his thighs and legs. His lower back peeks out from the thin material, his lower belly, bronzed from the sun, seems to taunt Nico. Nico’s fingers itch to touch Lewis again, make him moan, he wants to feel the golden skin underneath his fingers once more.    
Nico gets out of the bed, avoiding the condom wrapper dropped haphazardly on the floor. He pulls on his boxer shorts and pads over to the door to get some fresh air. He needs to clear his head.   
  
He’s been outside for about twenty minutes, he’s stolen one of his father’s cigarettes and is watching it slowly burn down. He’s had a couple of drags but the taste is bitter on his tongue.   
  
“You shouldn’t smoke. It’ll only kill you faster.” An amused voice pipes up from behind him. Lewis appears by his side, hair ruffled on one side, wrapped in the bedsheet.   
  
Nico quirks an eyebrow at the sheet. “Couldn’t find my boxer shorts.” Lewis replies, winking at the German.   
  
Nico smiles, holding back a laugh. He stubs the cigarette out on the ground.   
  
“Couldn’t sleep?” Lewis asks, his voice is soft.  
  
“I just woke up…and I can’t stop thinking about everything.” Nico’s voice is barely audible.   
  
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Lewis sits beside the blonde, their thighs brush.   
  
“I’m not sure at the moment…it’s the first time I’ve ever had sex.” Nico admits, he glances at the Brit.   
  
“Me too. I thought it was great…I mean, I had nothing to compare it with, but it was so great.” Lewis babbles a little, he fiddles with one of the corners of the bedsheet. “I just never expected to be in this position.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Nico asks.  
   
“Well, I’ve liked you more than a friend for a long time...I mean, like four years you suddenly like started being hot. You’re hot now but I just never-“  
  
“Lewis, stop talking. Stop being so nervous. I’m okay.” Nico laughs at the Brit, noting the slight blush dance across his cheeks.  
  
“Sorry. I’m just waiting for the moment when you realise that you don’t want this.” Lewis looks down at the ground.  
  
“I don’t know what this is…all I know is that I liked having sex with you. I liked kissing you. I know in the past I’ve pushed you away, but I think that because I had lost you for the last year, I’m not afraid anymore. I don’t want to lose you because I’m too afraid to do something that I know deep down is going to make me happy.”   
  
Lewis takes a deep breath. “Nico, isn’t this a little soon for us?”  
  
Nico shakes his head. “I put it off for too long. I want to be with you. I’m not sure what it is we have just yet…but I want to be with you.”  
  
Lewis cocks his head slightly. “I…can’t believe you want to be with me.”  
  
“Why?” Nico looks confused.   
  
“Because I’m just Lewis Hamilton from Stevenage and you’re Nico Rosberg, your dad is a World Champion, you live in a mansion in Monaco and you know which knife is the right one to use for the fish. You’re too good for me, you need to be with someone like Vivian-“  
  
Nico glances at the Brit. “Stop it. You spent like four years trying to persuade me that we should be together and I basically tell you that I’ve been an idiot and you’re right. I’m not any better than you. My dad is a World Champion but there’s races he’s lost, there’s been times that he’s told me to do something and it was the wrong decision. I do have a mansion in Monaco, but like I told you once, I don’t want people to judge me on that. I want someone who sees me as Nico, not as Nico Rosberg, rich and born into Formula One. I don’t need to be with someone like Vivian. I liked her, but I didn’t love her.”  
  
“What are you saying?”  
  
“What do you think I’m saying, Lew? I love you.”  
  
Lewis exhales heavily. “Okay.”  
   
Nico laces their fingers together, Lewis’s hands are warm and slightly sweaty. Lewis glances up at Nico. Nico pulls the Brit closer, their hands stay entwined.

“I drove a Formula One car a few weeks ago.” Nico says quietly.   
  
“Oh?” Lewis replies, he’s rolled onto his side so he’s facing the blonde.   
  
“Yeah, I drove a Williams around.”   
  
“How did it feel?” Lewis whispers, his voice is thick.   
  
“It felt…amazing. I’ve sat in one a couple of times when I was a kid but they’re so different to GP2 cars. It’s just the feeling of knowing that you’re in control of this piece of metal and carbon fibre and you’re throwing it around a track at over 200mph I just – I can’t describe it. I felt free…like I could do anything.”  
  
“It sounds amazing. I’m so proud of you, I always knew you’d make it.” Lewis whispers, his thigh is brushing against Nico’s.   
  
“I wasn’t sure, Lew.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Lewis asks, confused.  
  
“Well, everybody knew that I was going to succeed? Everyone said that I was signed onto Williams since before I was born because of my dad. It hurt sometimes, they’d judge me based on his achievements.”  
  
“Nico, you’re not your father. You’re your own person.”  
  
“Yeah but sometimes I feel like I used his name to get me where I am today. I mean, I raced in Team Rosberg.”  
  
“Only after a year away and earning your first Championship, Nico.” Lewis argues. “And you will reach Formula One, just like you said.”  
  
“Nah, you’ll be first, Lew. You’re going to be driving a Formula One car around Silverstone.”  
  
“Maybe.” Lewis says, he doesn’t sound convinced. Nico tangles their fingers together and kisses the side of Lewis’s head.  
  
Nico wakes up the next morning and gropes around for Lewis. However, the bed before him is empty and cold. The sheets are rumpled and Lewis is nowhere to be seen. There’s no note. Nico pads around the motorhome and can’t find the golden skinned Brit anywhere.  
  
“Where are you, Lewis?” He whispers. Nobody replies.  
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis is sitting in his father’s car. There’s a lovebite on his neck, but his dad doesn’t ask questions. He just quirks his lips; Lewis is growing up now and he’s less protective than he was. Lewis hasn’t mentioned anything about staying with Nico for the night, his father doesn’t need to know. Lewis curls up against the window, watching the campsite disappear in the side-view mirror. He’s tired, he’d snatched an hour or two of sleep when he and Nico had finally made their way back to bed. They’d curled up around each other, their feet tangled against each other, Lewis’s nose buried in Nico’s damp blonde hair. Lewis had heard his phone go off and carefully pulled himself free of Nico to answer the call.   
  
His dad was on the other end of the line, shouting something about him just coming off the phone with McLaren and they needed to set off immediately. He hung up immediately. Lewis knew that his father wouldn’t wait and set about finding his clothes on Nico’s bedroom floor. Once he’s thrown them on (he had to borrow Nico’s socks, he can’t find his own.) he glances at Nico; the German is still fast asleep on the bed. Lewis moves to the side of the bed and leans over.   
  
“I’m sorry, I have to go.” He whispers, he pressed a kiss to the blonde’s lips.   
  
Nico’s brow furrows in his sleep as Lewis pulls away.   
  
Lewis glances down at his phone. He needs to text Nico and explain to him what happened. However, it’s only when they’re on the motorway that Lewis realises that he doesn’t have Nico’s number. His eyes begin to close. He hopes that Nico won’t be too angry at him.


	16. 2006 (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis and Nico reunite at Lewis's 21st birthday party and put the world to rights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back with another chapter! This one is a little shorter, but I feel it was needed after the horror I put you all through on the last chapter.  
> Enjoy! :)

**England, 2006**  
  
Lewis is sitting in his car in Valencia for testing when he hears that Nico is driving for Williams this season. He expected it; since Bahrain, Nico had thrown himself headfirst into his racing and he’d just won the GP2 Championship, with the very team that Lewis has just agreed to race for. It’s hard to sit in the car, the very car that last year Nico sat in and stormed to the title. He’s a tough act to follow, Lewis thinks as he makes all the necessary checks on his steering wheel.  
He wants to call Nico and congratulate him but he’s not sure that his well wishes would be appreciated by the German. He hasn’t spoken to Nico since the night in Bahrain. He often thinks back to that moment to damp blonde hair curling, pale skin, to breathly sighs and little moans, to the chapped lips of Nico Rosberg; the night they gave into one another and lost their virginity together.  
  
Lewis has caught glimpses of Nico on television; he’s grown into himself now. His blonde hair is longer than it was before, it brushes the back of his neck, slicked back gently for all the press photographs. His eyes are still the deep, dark blue that Lewis remembers but they seem harder, colder somehow. He’s finished growing, he’s been building muscle since he began GP2 last year. Lewis spots his abs through his thin t-shirt on some of the other press shots. Nico looks good, he looks professional, untouchable, like a diamond.  
He sighs heavily, shaking his head free of thoughts of Nico as he slides on his sunburst yellow helmet.  


* * *

 

“I just got off the phone with Anthony. It’s Lewis’s twenty first birthday party next week, if you want to go?” Keke asks Nico.  
  
They’re testing in Malaysia.  Nico frowns at his clutch, it’s not working correctly. He wriggles it around a little, hoping to loosen it up before the test begins.  
  
“Did you even listen to a word I just said?” Keke asks.  
  
“Dad, I’m a little preoccupied with what is happening inside my car right now.” Nico says, quietly. He finishes fiddling with the clutch, he’ll raise the issue with the mechanics after the test is over.  
  
“Lewis’s party. Anthony invited us. I said that you’d go too. You haven’t seen each other for over a year. He’s in GP2 now, racing in ART like you did. He seems to be trying to imitate you.” Keke says, his voice is full of joy.  
  
 His grin is wide. Nico glances at his father, he keeps his gaze measured. Keke has no idea that Nico’s heart is thumping against his ribcage. He’s hasn’t seen or spoke to Lewis in over a year, not since they both spent the night together in Bahrain. Nico remembers that night – it’s burned into his mind, how Lewis felt against him, the breathless moans and cries that rang from Lewis’s lips, how the Brit tasted. Then he remembers the morning after, he remembers cold, rumpled sheets and no explanations. His father had told him a month later in passing conversation, as though it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter what went on between Nico and Lewis.  
  
“What if I am already doing something?” Nico asks, he hopes that his voice remains steady.  
  
“Nico, what’s going on with you?” Keke says, his voice is a touch soft.  
  
“I don’t understand what you mean.” Nico replies. He glances back at his steering wheel.  
  
“Nico, I’m your father. I noticed the change in you since last year. You seem more committed, more determined-“  
  
“Maybe because I realised that it was the only way to get into Formula One.” Nico cuts in.  
  
“It’s not just about that, it’s not about getting into Formula One. You’ve wanted to do that since before you were toilet trained, ever since you saw me in a Formula One car. No, this is something different. Every time I seem to mention Lewis or going to England or anything, you clam up. Did something happen between you two the last time you saw one another?”  
  
Nico is lost for words for a moment; his father can’t _know_. He can’t know about Lewis and himself. He’s about to speak up when his father continues, “Did you have a fallout the last time you saw each other?”  
  
Nico thinks about Lewis’s lips pressing against his own, hard, insistent. “You could say that.”  
  
“Well, I think you two should kiss and make up-“ Keke is thankfully glancing across the paddock as he says this, not noticing the slight blush falling across his son’s cheeks. “You two had a great friendship and he was good for you…as much as it hurts me to say you were right. He helped you become more competitive. You’re a better driver when Lewis is driving next to you.”  
  
“We’re not driving in the same league though, Dad. We don’t have to be friends.”  
  
“Son, I made a mistake when you were younger, not letting you have any friends in karting because I was afraid you would take it personally when your friends beat you. But you need people in your life, son. You need like-minded people, people who understand what it means to race.”  
  
Nico nods. “Fine, I’ll come to Lewis’s party.” He says off-handedly. He figures he can always pretend he’s sick on that day and send his dad with a card and a present.  


* * *

  
  
His father ends up persuading him to go to Lewis’s birthday party. He stands in front of a mirror in the hotel room, trying to make his freshly washed hair lie flat. His father is currently on the phone to his mother, he’s talking in frantic German and he keeps disappearing on the balcony, cigarette smoke following him everywhere. Nico surveys himself in the mirror; he’d brought like seven different outfits with him and he’d taken photos of himself and sent them to Vivian for her advice. She’d selected a dark blue t-shirt and his softest pair of jeans. He’s wondering whether to wear his trainers or smart shoes to the party.  
  
He can’t keep his mind off Lewis, he wonders what he looks like now, he’s hasn’t seen him in over a year; he wonders if he’s grown any taller, if he has a beard, if he’s still got shocking fashion sense.  
  
His father ends his call and calls to his son. “Nico, hurry up, we need to get going. Bring a jacket, it might get cold.”  
  
“Coming!” Nico replies. He grabs his trainers and slips them on. He pulls a navy jacket out of his wardrobe and slips it on.

* * *

  
  
The party is in full swing when Nico, his father and his mother finally arrive. They’re at some bar in London and the drinks are flowing. Nico knows a few of the people dotted around – he spots Lewis’s brother, Nick over by the DJ booth. He’s sure that it’s Kuba standing on one of the tables, glass in hand. His mother and father end up going off to find Anthony or Linda, Nico isn’t sure who – leaving the blonde to peruse the room for Lewis.  
  
It doesn’t take him long to find the Brit; he’s seated in a booth, champagne bottle in one hand. Sebastian is at his side, they’re barely touching, their thighs are grazing ever so slightly. Lewis’s eyes are glazed and dark. He is talking animatedly to the German who looks equally drunk. It’s Sebastian who notices him rooted to the spot, watching the pair.  
  
“Nico?”  
  
Lewis stops mid-sentence and glances up at the German. His eyes widen and his mouth falls open as he takes in the blonde before him. “Nico, it’s good to see you.”  
  
“I know,” Nico begins, gritting his teeth. “We haven’t seen each other for a year.”  
  
“I can explain, Nico-“  
  
“Don’t bother, Lewis. Hope you have a nice birthday. It’s good to see you Seb.” He turns on his heel and stalks away.  
  
Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He was stupid to come here; he ignores his heart beating against his ribcage. He ignores the feeling that had seized in his chest when those dark brown eyes had glanced at him. He ends up out on the balcony, leaning against the railings. He feels the cool metal cut into his knees and closes his eyes, he takes a deep breath. A warm hand grasps at his shoulder.  
  
“Nico, please.” The familiar British accent is quieter than usual, as though he’s afraid Nico will shatter.  
  
“Why should I listen to you, Lewis? So I can spill all of my private thoughts – all of my feelings to you – then you can run away again?”  
  
“Nico, I didn’t mean to-“  
  
“Then what did you mean to do, Lewis?” Nico snaps back, the anger is tingling inside him, it seems to vibrate out into the night. “Did you mean to call me the next morning, let me down gently?”  
  
“Nico, can I please explain everything?” Lewis finally cuts in.  
  
He looks smaller than usual, more subdued. He’s sobered up a lot in the last few minutes, he’s shivering in the cool air of the balcony. Nico lets out an exhale and slumps against the railings.  
  
“I understand that you’re upset and I agree completely. I would be pissed off if anyone had done that to me…but the last time we met, I had a lot going on. I know that’s not an excuse as to what I did, but I had all kinds of problems…the races in Macau and Bahrain…I’d been dropped by McLaren. We had some disagreements over my contract, they wanted me to stay in Formula Three, I wanted to go into GP2. So I told them where to go. My dad scraped together some money so we can race in the last two races…get some exposure for sponsorships.”  
  
“Lewis, I never knew-“ Nico feels a surge of cold flood through his chest. “If you’d have said-“  
  
“I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to think any different of me.” His voice is almost a whisper, he’s looking down at the tiles of the balcony.  
  
“I would never think any different of you.” Nico replies, he steps forward and clasps Lewis’s chin in his hand.  
  
 Lewis’s skin is like ice – he rubs his fingers against the curve of Lewis’s jaw, his skin catches on the light stubble dusting across Lewis’s skin. Lewis finally catches Nico’s glance. His eyes lock with dark blue. Nico rubs his thumb over Lewis’s jaw and smile gently. “You have to stop having a low opinion of yourself. You deserve the same as I do, you’re a fantastic driver and the fact that you’re not rich will not hinder that.”  
  
“Well, Williams were going to offer me a contract. But BMW didn’t want me.” Lewis looks away, once more.  
  
 Nico tilts Lewis’s face towards him. “Well, then they’re stupid for saying no to you. You’re going to be amazing, you’re going to be whipping around Monaco and Monza in a Formula One car and Schumacher is going to be eating your dust.”  
  
Lewis half laughs – there’s tears in his eyes at Nico’s words. “If you say it, it must be true.”  
  
“Exactly.” Nico smiles back at the Brit. “So why did you leave without telling me?”  
  
“So, as you know, I was racing with no contract and no money. The race in Macau was terrible-“  
  
“You crashed out didn’t you?” Nico asks, his hand drops to twine around Lewis’s shoulder, pulling the shivering Brit closer to him.  
  
Lewis nods. “I crashed and so everything rode on the race in Bahrain…that’s why I was so determined to win, I knew everyone was watching. So as you know, I won and you admitted that there was something between us. It made me so happy. I mean, I was out of contract but I made everyone stand up and take notice. Then you told me exactly what I wanted to hear, what I needed to hear-“  
  
“Did you regret it afterwards?” Nico asks the Brit, his blue eyes full of fear.  
  
“No, no-“ Lewis shakes his head. “Nothing like that, I didn’t regret a moment or anything I said…the morning after we, you know, I got a call from my dad. McLaren had called and were asking to renegotiate the terms of my contract. I didn’t want him knowing where I was so I quickly got all my stuff together and left. I didn’t realise I didn’t have your mobile number until we were pulling out of the trailer park.”  
  
“I thought you left because you were ashamed of what we did.”  
  
“No, I would never be ashamed of what we did. My only regret is that I didn’t get to wake up with you the next morning and discuss things properly.”  
  
“I was so hurt when I woke up and you weren’t there.” Nico says.  
  
Lewis bites his lip. “I’m sorry.”  
  
The silence overwhelms the night. The two racing drivers stand side by side. Lewis keeps glancing at Nico, shivering ever so slightly. “Here, you need to warm up. I can’t have you getting frostbite on your birthday.” Nico drops his jacket over Lewis’s shoulders.  
  
Lewis looks small in the material, he’s clearly uncomfortable. “You don’t have to give me your jacket, Nico.”  
  
“Well, nobody else is interested in saving your arse.” Nico smiles.  
  
Lewis shakes his head, there’s a curl of a smile dancing across his lips. “You always manage to make me feel better, Rosberg.”  
  
“Well, that’s kinda my job.” Nico says, he leans on the side of the railings. The night is strangely calm for England; it’s clear and the sky is a beautiful dark blue. The skyline of London is luminous.  
  
“Hey,” Lewis breaks the silence. “Are we okay?” His voice holds a thread of fear.  
  
“I think it might take me a while to be okay with everything, Lewis. I understand that you were in a bad place but I thought…I thought you weren’t interested in me anymore. I felt like all you wanted from me is a fuck.”  
  
“It was never like that, Nico. I promise that-“  
  
“I know, I just – I was paranoid that once you had me, you would lose interest and then I woke up the next morning and you were gone.”  
  
“I know, I felt so horrible when I woke up in my dad’s car, I just wondered if you would hate me.”  
  
“I never hated you.” Nico glances at the Brit, his jacket is thrown over Lewis’s shoulders. His eyes look lighter than usual. “I wouldn’t have saved you from frostbite if I hated you.”  
  
“Are you sure you’re okay with me having your jacket?” Lewis bites his lip.  
  
Nico nods, “Lew, I’m Finnish. I’m used to the cold temperature, this is like Barbados in comparison.”  
  
Lewis chuckles lightly, his breath glows white in the cold air.  
  
“Anyway, shouldn’t you be getting back? Everyone will be wondering where you are, you know, being the birthday boy and everything.”  
  
“I don’t care, most of them I don’t even know anyway. I want to be here with you.” Lewis inches closer to the German, their elbows brush.  
  
Nico looks down at Lewis’s arm grazing gently against his own. “Lewis, we shouldn’t.”  
  
“Okay.” Lewis says, carefully. He backs away from Nico. The German feels his chest flood with cold as Lewis’s warmth leaves his side. Lewis gives him a small smile as he turns to go back inside.  
  
“Wait.” Nico’s voice is barely a whisper as he catches the Brit’s arm, his pale fingers move against the soft, golden skin. Lewis glances at Nico with a guarded expression, his eyebrow raised.  
  
“I…” Nico begins but he doesn’t get to finish as Lewis captures his lips with his own.  
  
Nico melts against the Brit, his arms moving up to grasp Lewis’s shoulders and pull him further into the kiss. Their mouths move together in harmony, Lewis smirks as Nico lets out a breathless moan against his lips. There’s a ghost of breath across his cheek. He settles his hands on Nico’s hips, pulling the German against him. His tongue dances inside Nico’s mouth, nipping at his lips ever so often.  
Nico kisses back with a certain ferocity, as though he’s the last kiss he’ll ever get. His tongue battles with Lewis’s for dominance, much like their cars out on the track. Lewis hisses as Nico bites down on his tongue. Nico snatches his mouth away and begins mouthing at Lewis’s neck, marking the golden skin there. Lewis throws his head back and makes a little noise – halfway between a moan and a frustrated huff – as Nico’s mouth begins sucking at the sensitive skin. Nico presses little kisses to Lewis’s jawline. One of Lewis’s hands begin to dance down towards Nico’s jeans. Nico continues sucking bruises into Lewis’s neck as the Brit’s fingers disappear underneath his waistband.  Lewis is about to grasp Nico’s swollen cock in his hand when a voice pipes up behind the couple.  
  
“Hey, Lewis, they’re looking for you…oh god, I’m sorry!”  
  
Nico rips his mouth away from Lewis’s neck for the second time eliciting another moan before the Brit realises they have company. He pushes Lewis away, ignoring the hurt that spreads across his face.  
  
Sebastian is standing in the doorway, his expression is a mixture of a few emotions – there’s surprise and shock, and a touch of happiness. There’s a smile curving on the corners of his mouth. Nico’s eyes are wide with panic. Sebastian glances between the two, his eyes locking on the reddening marks on Lewis’s neck. Lewis feels a slight blush spread across his cheeks as he watches Sebastian smirk.  
  
“I can come back later if you two are busy.” Sebastian says innocently.  
  
The tops of Nico’s ears are bright red. He glances down at the floor. “We’re not busy, we were just…”  
  
Sebastian holds up his hands as though in mock surrender. “Hey, it’s okay. What you two do in your own time is up to you. It’s nothing to do with me. I’m just glad that you both decided to stop being idiots.”  
  
Lewis and Nico don’t say a word, they both stare at the blonde German who smiles at the pair; at Nico’s rumpled shirt, at Lewis wearing an oversized jacket who clearly doesn’t belong to him, at their swollen lips and the fact they seem to have finely got their act together.  
  
“Oh, Lewis, they’re looking for you, it’s time to cut the cake or something, so best tidy yourself up before you go in?” Sebastian says, his voice full of joy. The two drivers watch open mouthed as Sebastian saunters back inside, winking at the pair as he leaves.  
  
Lewis glances at Nico after a moment of silence. “Wow.” He whispers.  
  
“Yeah.” Nico replies, his voice quiet.  
  
“I don’t think he’ll say anything about this.” Lewis says. He moves to tangle Nico’s hand with his own.  
  
Nico nods half-heartedly, his fingers slip against Lewis’s, his fingers rough from the driving against his palms. “I guess I’m more embarrassed about it.”  
  
Lewis feels his heart drop. Nico realises that Lewis’s fingers have loosened and he squeezes them tightly. “I wasn’t embarrassed about being with you, Lew. I just…imagine if it had been your dad or my dad or something.”  
  
“But it wasn’t.” Lewis states. “Seb is a good guy, he’s one of my best friends. I just wish you would get to know him, he’s so funny and smart. He’s a really good driver and I think you would be good friends.”  
  
“Lewis, if Seb and I are meant to be friends, then we’ll be friends. I’ve spoken to him a couple of times and he seems cool. I just…I don’t know what to think of him at the moment.”  
  
“I guess you’re right.” Lewis whispers. “Should we go inside?”  
  
Nico nods. Lewis doesn’t let go of his hand until they’re thick into the crowd.

Nico watches Lewis blow the candles out of his cake. There’s suddenly an alcoholic drink in his hand. His mother and father are by his side, grinning. Anthony’s got a party hat perched jauntily on his head. Lewis smiles at the crowd. Nico watches the Brit with a smile on his face; Lewis loves the crowd, they’re all there for him. He looks beautiful stood up on the stage, the lights illuminating the depth of his dark eyes. He’s still wearing Nico’s jacket; the navy material, too big across Lewis’s shoulders, makes Nico’s thigh jolt. He’s so screwed. He grabs a shot off the tray of a passing waiter and downs it in one. The vodka is bitter against his tongue.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Hey, you are leaving?” A familiar British accent slurs out from behind him.  
  
Nico whips around, coming face to face with hazy brown eyes. Lewis is drunk, he’s swaying slightly and his eyes hold a certain sense of confusion. He looks like a little kid, still buried in Nico’s jacket.  
  
“I have to go, we’re flying back to Monaco tomorrow.” Nico says.  
  
“Do I get a birthday kiss? Since it’s my birthday.” Lewis moves closer. Nico can almost count the freckles across his cheeks. He exhales loudly, hesitant. His thoughts are still on Sebastian catching them, his knowing smirk as he left.  
  
“It’s not technically your birthday anymore.” Nico teases, he’s trying to change the subject; it doesn’t feel right kissing Lewis when he’s drunk, when he doesn’t realise that it’s Nico’s lips he’s brushing against. Lewis pouts – like full on pouts – he looks adorable. Nico fights back a laugh.  
  
“I want a birthday kiss from my favourite person.” Lewis repeats himself.  
  
Nico sighs heavily and leans forward, lightly pressing his lips against Lewis’s. Lewis tries to press his tongue into Nico’s mouth but the blonde holds firm. Lewis slowly moves away. His lips are cherry red, swollen from the kiss and from the alcohol he’s been drinking.  
  
“I won’t take advantage of you when you’re drunk.” Nico sets his jaw.  
  
Lewis cocks his head slightly. “I’m not drunk, Nico.”  
  
“You’re not sober, Lew. I’m not going to do this when you can’t think straight.”  
  
“I am thinking straight.” Lewis wheedles.   
  
He moves closer to Nico once more, moving to encase the German in a hug. Nico exhales heavily as he feels Lewis’s arms wrap around him, he takes in the scent of Lewis – Lynx, vanilla, motor oil but predominantly, the smell of alcohol permeates Nico’s nostrils. He glances at the Brit worriedly. Lewis seems to fall into Nico’s shoulder, his hair brushes against Nico’s chin.  
   
“Lewis? Lewis?” Nico shakes the Brit’s shoulder. He doesn’t respond. He’s out cold.  
  
“Fucking arsehole.” Nico whispers under his breath, shifting to take Lewis’s weight. The Brit’s eyes are closed; Nico feels his chest rise and fall and the ghost of a breath against the back of his hand and breathes a sigh of relief.  
  


* * *

  
  
They end up walking through the streets of London; it’s slightly foggy and it’s turned cold and Lewis is shivering in Nico’s thin jacket as they walk down the stairs of Embankment.  
  
“What is like driving for Williams?” Lewis whispers against Nico’s neck.  
  
Nico snorts as he steers Nico towards the barriers. “I haven’t started driving yet, Lew. It’s January remember? The season hasn’t started yet.”  
  
“Oh yeah.” Lewis lets out a small giggle.  
  
Nico sighs heavily. “Where is your Oyster card, Lewis?”  
  
“I don’t know. I don’t care.” Lewis slurs back.  
  
Nico takes a deep breath and counts to three. “Okay, I’m checking your pockets then.”  
  
“Go ahead.” Lewis tries to smirk at him but his head falls against Nico’s shoulder once more. He giggles when Nico’s hand dips inside his pocket. Nico tries to ignore the breath against his ear, Lewis’s hand pressing against his chest. Lewis’s lips move closer to his ear. Nico’s cock twitches as Lewis’s damp lips gently press against his ear and dance against the thin blonde strands of hair.  
  
“You’re really pretty, Nico.” Lewis whispers, he lets out another giggle as Nico finally manages to slide his fingers against the hard plastic card. His fingers fumble ever so slightly and he pulls out the offending item. Lewis whines at the lack of contact.  
  
“And you’re really drunk, Lew.” Nico mutters as he flashes back cards at the guy at the barrier, who waves them through.  
  
Lewis is fairly quiet on the tube journey back to Nico’s hotel room; Nico decides against taking the Brit back to his dad’s house, he doesn’t want to deal with the fallout when Anthony Hamilton realises his son can’t stand up.  
  
They’re walking out of the tube station when Lewis finally speaks again. “I hated you when my dad told me you were going into Formula One. I was jealous of you. I still am. You’re rich, you’re beautiful, you’re going to go off and drive in a brilliant car and-“ _Forget about me_ , this part remains unspoken, but both boys hear it hanging in the air.  
  
“Doesn’t stop us being friends, it never stopped us from being best friends before all this.”  
  
“But we both changed, Nico. We both got older and I realised that just being friends wasn’t enough-“ Lewis’s voice almost becomes a whisper.  
  
“It doesn’t have to change.” Nico says back. “I don’t want it to change. I don’t want to not spend time with you. I want to spend my weekends hanging out with you eating ice cream. I miss the old days.”  
  
“We can’t go back to that, Nico. We’re older now. It has to change.”  
  
Nico nods but he finds himself disagreeing with the Brit. They finally reach Nico’s hotel room, Nico fiddles around for his key card. Lewis is worryingly silent against his neck, he hasn’t spoken for five minutes.  Nico walks into the room and deposits the Brit gently on the bed.  
  
Lewis curls up, his head pressed into the pillow. Nico finds himself staring at Lewis’s fluffy dark hair and how it contrasts with the stark white cotton of the pillowcase. He manages to coax Lewis out of his skinny jeans and underneath the covers. The Brit curls up into a ball, his eyes slipping closed. Nico goes to brush his teeth, he shrugs out of his t-shirt and his jeans, leaving his boxer shorts on. He fills up a glass of water and leaves a paracetamol on the bedside table.  
Nico lays down beside Lewis, facing the Brit. Lewis isn’t asleep; Nico can tell by how shallow and fast his breaths are. He’s usually quieter in sleep. Nico moves a fraction closer to Lewis and hears the sharp intake of breath.  
  
“Lewis?” He whispers, breaking the silence.  
  
“Yeah?” Lewis replies, his voice muffled by the pillow.  
  
Nico moves closer still, his fingers graze Lewis’s hip. Lewis doesn’t move. Nico gently snakes an arm around Lewis’s stomach. He feels Lewis relax against his touch; the Brit seems to melt against his fingers. It doesn’t take long for Lewis to fall asleep after that.

* * *

  
  
Nico is enjoying his morning coffee on the balcony the next morning, the British sun is slowly beginning to warm his toes where they’re sprawled against the cool tiles. Lewis steps out into the early morning sunshine looking dishevelled and pale. His hair is standing out on one end all wild curls from tossing and turning in the pillow. There’s dark circles underneath his eyes and he looks drained. He’s holding a cup of tea in his hand.  
  
Nico gives the Brit his best smile and leans back in his chair. “How are you feeling, Lew?”  
  
“You know how I feel.” Lewis says, pinching his sinuses. “I feel like utter crap, did you take me home?”  
  
“No, you turned up at my hotel room at three in the morning begging to come in.”  
  
Lewis pauses in rubbing his eyes to show Nico his middle finger. “You’re a bloody liar, Rosberg. You carried me here, didn’t you?”  
  
“You followed me home.” Nico smirks.  
  
“Yeah right. You carried me home like my own Prince Charming.” There’s a smirk on his lips.  
  
Nico nearly spits out his drink. “I am not your Prince Charming, Lew.”  
  
Lewis raises an eyebrow. “You’re touchy this morning.”  
  
“And you are so hungover.” Nico fires back.  
  
Lewis throws himself down in the chair opposite. He runs a hand through his hair, tangling up the messy dark curls. “Thank you for the tablet and the water.” He says quietly.  
  
“No problem.”  
  
“I hope I didn’t do or say anything stupid last night.” Lewis finally sips from his cup of tea, some of the liquid clings to his lower lip.  
  
Nico thinks back to Lewis admitting his jealousy, to Lewis falling against him, this breath ghosting against Nico’s lip, he shakes his head. Lewis looks relieved. They both sip on their drinks, watching the sun rise, its fingers fall over the London Eye and the skyline of London. It’s beautiful. Nico glances at Lewis, taking him in. You’re beautiful too, he thinks.  
  



	17. 2006 (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico still struggles with his position in Formula One, Lewis continues his rise to the top. But none of this really matters as they continue to explore themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait on this, but I felt it was fitting as it's the last weekend before Formula One begins again and that's how this story all began. I checked and most of the races in 2006 also had GP2 races taking place on the same day, so it's likely that Nico and Lewis saw alot of each other in this time.
> 
> Just a smudge of implied sex in this one!
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Nico doesn’t see Lewis again until they’re four races into the new season. They’re in San Marino of all places. The heat is beating down and Nico’s having a walk around the track. He sips on his bottle of water as he closes his eyes and takes in the racetrack. He can hear his racing shoes scuff against the asphalt kicking up a few loose stones.  
  
He passes into Traguardo, he reaches down to press his fingers along the apex, the palms pressing against the warming concrete. He can hear the familiar sounds in the background; the drilling, the chatter of the mechanics working in the garage, the sound of an engine purring to life. Nico closes his eyes and adjusts his cap. He lets the slight breeze press through his hair. It’s not the season that he wanted; he’d finished in the points in his very first race. Nico remembers the look on his father’s face as he pulled into the pits. He remembers wrapping his arms around his mother before he pumps his fist in the air. He presses a kiss to his car’s chassis. It was perfect. It was all perfect.  
  
However, the next two races were not so perfect. They’d ended with two retirements; his engine had exploded in Malaysia and he’d limped back to the pits and ended up sulking in the garage, curled up in an old hoodie, watching the screens. However, Mark ends up retiring too and offers him a cup of coffee as they watch the race unfold.  
  
“Shame the engines had to fail.” Mark says, he’s watching the race intently.  
  
“Yeah, I would have loved to race here. It seems like a good track to race on.” Nico replies. He sips on his coffee. His phone buzzes.  
  
_Bad news for u – you didn’t finish the race and that sucks. Good news tho - guess who is racing in San Marino the same weekend as you??_  
  
Nico feels the flash of a smile ghost over his lips as he types back an answer.  
  
_I hope it’s not your slow ass, Lew._  
  
_U know spending time with all those F1 drivers has made u rude, Rosberg. I am wounded right now. I’ll hang out in Kuba’s garage instead_  
  
Nico’s gaze flickers down the pitlane. Kuba is somewhere in the Sauber garage; the Pole is a test driver there, but Nico has only spoken to him a handful of times. Nico doesn’t speak much to anyone else on the track. It’s lonely sometimes. He watches Alonso and Schumacher spray champagne all over one another, their faces elated. However, Nico knows better, he knows that the two drivers can’t stand one another, their smiles are painted on, ready for the cameras. He imagines Lewis and himself up on the podium. He hopes their smiles will be real, wet with champagne, gold gleaming in their fists.  
  
_You’re a traitor, Hamilton, and you always will be._  
  
Lewis doesn’t respond but Nico can imagine him laughing at the top of his lungs. He looks back at the race, a smile still playing on his lips. Mark asks him what he’s smiling about.  
  
“Just a friend coming to the next race.” Nico replies.  
  
Mark gives him a knowing look.  
  
Nico is suddenly pulled from his thoughts as one of the cars drives past him – the roar of the engine bringing the world back into focus. He realises that he’s standing at Tamburello, his eyes wandering over the chain link fence that stands in place of the iconic but tragic corner. It’s full of photos of a smiling Ayrton Senna – most are curling and faded from all seasons of weather and there’s a few Brazilian flags woven into the metal links of the fence, fluttering proudly in the breeze. Nico spots a lone figure standing by the fence, his hands entangled in the metal, looking down at his feet.  
  
He watches the figure for a few moments. They’re dressed in white overalls – they have dark hair and caramel coloured skin. Nico finds his feet moving towards the figure. It can’t be Lewis. It looks like Lewis, but it can’t actually be him. He’s supposed to be racing somewhere else, not standing on Tamburello corner like he’s going to break.  
  
“Lewis?” He calls out, he keeps his voice gentle.  
  
The figure’s head whips up. Nico stares into the face of his best friend, tears glittering in his eyes.  
  
“What is it- Nico?” His voice is unsteady. He immediately moves to rubs his eyes and wipe away his tears. Nico steps forward. He notices the half-moon shaped crescents that Lewis has cut into his own palms from his fingernails.  
  
“I thought you were joking when you said you were coming to San Marino.” Nico continues, he moves to envelop Lewis in a hug.  
  
Lewis melts against him, his arms, definitely more muscular, clasp around Nico’s shoulders. Nico’s fingers graze Lewis’s still damp cheeks. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah…I knew I shouldn’t have gone off and done that, my dad is going to kill me when he realises I’m not out doing reconnaissance laps. I just…I needed to see it up close and not in my car. See it in person, get as close as I could.” Nico watches Lewis’s dark eyes dance over the fence, his gaze resting on Senna’s smile.  
  
“Of course, nobody would judge you for that-“  
  
There’s a slight pause. “It’s very peaceful over here, I know I shouldn’t find it peaceful but-“  
  
“Sometimes I like to walk the track and remember all the special memories. Like Becketts in Silverstone, first oversteer resulting in a full off the track spin.” Nico laughs.  
  
The pair end up walking back to the pits together, Nico keeps his arm around Lewis, as though to protect the Brit. They take a photo of the pair of them back in the pits on Lewis’s phone. Nico glances at the picture afterwards on the tiny pixelated screen. Their heads are pressed together and they’re both grinning widely. One of Nico’s curls is falling across his face and one side of Lewis’s hair is ruffled. They’re both in overalls – white ones - Nico’s are slightly open at the collar, showing off his turtleneck underneath. It’s a good picture, they both look happy, they both look like they’re supposed to be next to each other.  
  
Lewis ends up finishing outside of the points, so does Nico. He climbs out of his car after the race and tries to ignore the disappointed look on his father’s face. Keke wasn’t expecting him to be challenging for the World Championship but he expected that Nico should be finishing in the points. Nico hides in the back of the garage and looks through his copy of the data readout. It seems to blur in front of his face.  
  
Lewis flies home early. He doesn’t tell Nico he’s leaving. Nico ignores the ache in his chest.  


* * *

  
  
They meet again in Germany. Nico is pissed off in the morning session; his and Mark’s engines failed and need to be replaced, but the new work comes at a cost. He’s starting from twenty second place, Mark’s in nineteenth. It’s beautiful weather, the sun is rising in the sky. Nico feels the slight sheen of sweat, his skin sticks to the Nomex, his palms are damp with perspiration. He stalks around the pit area, mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes. His face is twisted into a frown, he swigs from his water bottle every so often, cursing his car. It’s currently sat in the garage in a state of repair, half pulled apart by the Williams mechanics.  
  
He ends up sitting down in the VIP lounge, the air conditioning feels nice against his hair. His hair is getting long again, the blonde strands cling to the nape of his neck. It’s relaxing in here, there’s little noise coming from the pits outside. Nico can feel his thoughts begin to clear, he leans his head back against the couch.  
  
However, his moment of silence is quickly interrupted by his phone ringing. He glances at the display, it’s an unknown number.  
  
“Hello, I’m a bit busy right now, can you call back later?” He answers the phone, briskly.  
  
“Sounds like somebody didn’t do well in qualifying.” A light, familiar accent teases down the phone.  
  
“Lewis.” Nico suddenly regrets his tone of voice. “The engine failed on my car, I qualified twelfth but now I’m in twenty second place.”  
  
Lewis makes a noise of sympathy. Nico tries to imagine what Lewis is doing right now, where he is. He can hear the din of a race behind him, the roar of the drills in the garages, the tannoy making announcements. He imagines Lewis sitting in the driver’s area on one of the chairs, his feet resting in the dust of the track.  
  
“That’s rubbish. I hate it when the engine blows…hey, you’re in Germany right now right?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m at Nurburgring. It’s a beautiful day to race.” Nico says, he can feel the smile beginning to graze the corners of his mouth.  
  
“I know. I’m right here. I can see you, come out of the VIP lounge, you idiot. They won’t let me in.”  
  
Nico raises an eyebrow and looks up at the mirrored windows. He notices Lewis standing next to the glass, mirrored sunglasses and ever present hat jammed on his head. He’s smiling, the phone still held to his ear. Nico ends the call and gets up to leave the VIP lounge. He just manages to get through the door when Lewis is pulling him into a hug. Nico smiles as Lewis’s dark curls tickle his nose. He allows his arms to slide around Lewis, moving to rest on the Brit’s waist.  
He feels Lewis smile against his chest.  
  
“I just finished my race this morning…I came first.” He grins. "I was making my way back when I saw you go into the lounge and I asked to go in, showed them my phone background of you and I that we took at the last race…but the guy wasn’t having any of it. He thought I was a crazy fan that wanted to kidnap you and have babies with you.”  
  
“You mean, you don’t want to do that?” Nico teases as he finally releases Lewis. Lewis hits him gently on the arm.  
  
“You know I do, we would have beautiful children…look at you.” Lewis dark eyes rake over Nico’s slight form. “You’re a Formula One driver.” There’s a touch of envy in his voice, deep under the layers. Nico glances back at his best friend, the boy who used to race him and win more or less every single time. His overalls feel like lead.  


* * *

  
  
Nico climbs out of his car, after the race. It had been a different one – the Nurburgring is always a difficult race to contend – but thanks to several drivers either crashing out in the first two laps or suffering damage to their cars, he’s able to wrestle his Williams-Cosworth into a respectable seventh place. He waves at the crowd, who cheer loudly as he moves into the paddock to conduct his driver interview.  
  
He catches a glimpse of Michael Schumacher, heading into the holding room for the podium winners, huge grin painting his face as he holds his hand up to salute his home crowd. Nico closes his eyes for a moment and lets the bay of the crowd wash over him. He hopes that one day, the crowd will cheer his name like they cheer Schumacher’s. He’s shaken out of his thoughts by somebody throwing themselves at him. Thanks to his reflexes, he manages to catch the blur of a person – white overalls and dark hair. He feels a fluttering inside his chest as he looks at the arms enveloping his neck, curls pressed into his shoulder.  
  
“Congratulations, Nico!” Lewis says into his chest. “You did an amazing job out there.”  
  
“You watched me?” Nico asks. He thought that Lewis would have been practising for his race, it’s in the evening after the Formula One party has died down.  
  
Lewis nods. “Of course I did, I was sitting in the main stands cheering you on.” His voice is no more than a whisper, the breath sweeps against Nico’s damp chest.  
  
“Am I interrupting something?” A warm Australian accent cuts through their moment. Nico’s hand falls away from Lewis’s hip. Lewis looks up, confusion and a thread of hurt in his eyes.  
  
Mark Webber is standing before him, his pale blue eyes resting on Lewis’s arms around Nico’s neck, at the uncompromising position the pair are in. There’s a huge grin on his face as he surveys them.  
  
“Is this your _friend_ , Nico?” He asks the blonde. His eyes seem to twinkle as he watches Lewis’s arm fall away from Nico. There’s a touch of embarrassment In Nico’s eyes.  
  
“Yeah.” He says after a moment. “This is my best friend, Lewis Hamilton. We used to kart together-“  
  
“Ah, you told me all about him.” Mark offers his hand out to Lewis.  
  
Lewis takes Mark’s hand and shakes it firmly. “Nice to meet you.”  
  
“The pleasure is all mine.” Mark says in his warm Australian accent. He keeps hold of Lewis’s hand, one of his thumbs rubbing gently over Lewis’s. “Mark Webber. I’m Nico’s teammate.” Mark glances over at Nico, the German’s dark blue eyes are narrowed, resting on Mark’s hand grazing against Lewis’s. There’s a slight pinch in between his eyebrows. He looks jealous.  
  
Lewis smiles back, there’s blush rising across his cheeks. “You’re really tall, I wasn’t expecting you to be so tall, man.”  
  
Mark’s smile stretches further. “I guess I am full of surprises.” He says, giving the Brit a wink. “I’ll see you around, Lewis?” He drops Lewis’s hand and walks off to the interview area.  
  
He glances behind him, watching the two young men. Lewis is immediately chattering away to Nico, his arms flapping about, but Nico is more reserved. He catches Mark’s glance and wraps an arm around Lewis’s shoulders.   
Mark grins. They’re so oblivious.  
  
Lewis doesn’t stop talking about Mark bloody Webber and how charming he is for the rest of the day and well into the evening. Nico sits in the stands; he ends up above the pit entrance, resting on the railings. He can hear various sounds; the din of the crowd, some have gone home but most have stayed, ready to cheer on their favourites. The drilling in the garages is even louder from this position but if he leans over enough, he can just see the nose of Lewis’s car poking out of the garage. He hasn’t seen his best friend yet, but he guesses that he’s sitting somewhere in the back of the garage, reading over his data. Nico sips from his glass of champagne. The sky is beginning to darken just a touch. They’ve already put the floodlights on.  
  
The clock counts down and the cars begin to file out and do a formation lap. Nico’s heart skips a beat as he sees Lewis’s car roll out of the garage below him, the shiny red and white chassis gleaming under the floodlights. Lewis’s ever present sunburst yellow helmet – he still loves and worships Senna, even now – pokes out of the top of the car. The German watches Lewis’s car weave its way out of the pit lane, craning his neck to watch his best friend until his car rounds around the corner and disappears.  
  
The next time Nico sees Lewis’s car is when it is pulled up behind Piquet, the pole sitter’s car. Nico watches as Lewis glances at the roaring crowd and then the Brit glances up above the pit box, towards him. He gives the German a little wave. Nico feels his heartbeat accelerate as the lights begin to go out.  
It doesn’t stop thudding against his chest as he watches the car suddenly come to life, battling towards the first corner.  
  
Lewis manages to overtake Piquet in the very first corner. Nico whoops with joy, a smile blossoming across his face.  
  
Nico sighs in relief as Lewis manages to hold off Piquet, the Brazilian had been sitting on his tail for the entire race and had seized his opportunity in the last lap on the back straight. However, Lewis angles his car just perfectly – managing to shut him out and seems to pull an extra dose of speed from nowhere. He accelerates down and past the finish line.  
  
Lewis lifts his hand into the sky as he passes the baying crowd, all cheering. Nico is still leaning on the railing, applauding. He doesn’t think about how his engine failed him, he doesn’t think about how this season isn’t working for him at the moment, all he thinks about is Lewis and how ecstatic he looks. He’s happy for Lewis – he’s glad that his best friend is finally getting recognised for how talented he is. He can see how much it means to Lewis – the camera follows the Brit driving around waving at the crowd and screaming into his team’s radio.  
He watches Lewis stand on the podium and accept the silver trophy. He watches Lewis’s elated face, sweat clinging to his neck as he lifts the trophy into the air, the crowd screams. Nico smiles and finishes off his last sip of champagne.   He leaves the racetrack, his thoughts still full of Lewis, his heart beating a little quicker than it usually does.  


* * *

  
  
Nico ends up back at his hotel room; he lets himself fall back on the bed, burrowing his face in the soft duvet. He lays there for a while, still in his sweaty race overalls, his fingers dance over the Williams logo, over the scratchy Nomex up to the zip. He pulls it down slowly, the sound echoing around the room. His thoughts are of Lewis, standing on the podium grin wide.  
  
Nico bites his lip as he lets one of his hands drift inside his open overalls, his hands move over his hard torso. He’s been spending more time in the gym to tone everything up and it seems to be working. He moves his hand down slowly, grazing over his damp skin to wrap around his cock. His fingers wrap around his shaft and he begins tugging gently, playing with himself. He leans back, a sigh expels from his lips. He thinks about Lewis wearing nothing but a pair of racing overalls, they are slightly unzipped and show off his golden chest.  
  
“Lewis…” Nico’s lips pause on his best friend’s name.  
  
Suddenly, there’s a hard knock at the door. Nico’s head whips up. He removes his hand from inside his overalls, climbs off the bed and staggers to the door.  
  
“Hello, I’m your room service.” Lewis says when Nico opens the door.  
  
He’s still dressed in his racing overalls, but he’s not wearing a hat. His hair is fluffy and dark with sweat. Nico says nothing for a minute, he just looks at his best friend.  
  
“Nico, you okay?” Lewis asks, cocking his head.  
  
“I’m fine.” Nico finally responds, his voice is hoarse.  
  
“You just look a little flushed…” Lewis says, his dark eyes move to hover on the open zip of Nico’s racing overalls, he takes in the expanse of pale skin on show. “Am I interrupting something? Because I can leave if-“ Lewis doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Nico pulls him into the room, pressing their lips together.  
  
Lewis sighs into Nico’s mouth as the German presses him against the wall. Nico’s hand move to gently clasp his face, one disappears to card through the Brit’s hair.  
  
“Lewis, you’re such a-“ Nico whispers against Lewis’s lips.  
  
“Sex god, I know.” Lewis whispers back, smirking as Nico pulls away from him, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“Stop talking.” Nico fires out, his voice is gentle.  
  
He kisses Lewis again, his tongue tracing the line of the Brit’s lips. Lewis moans against Nico’s mouth, making the German’s cock swell. Nico smiles and coaxes Lewis’s mouth open with his tongue, licking the inside of his mouth. Lewis’s lip is dry and sticks to Nico’s ever so slightly, there’s a slight taste of champagne on Lewis, who no doubt got soaked when he was standing on the podium. Nico bites Lewis’s lip gently, taking the soft, wet skin between his teeth. Lewis moans and lets his head fall back against the wall.  
  
Nico traces his tongue over Lewis’s, teasingly. Lewis responds, their tongues move together against one another as one of Nico’s hands moves from where it was pinning Lewis’s hand to the wall down the curves of Lewis’s body to tug on the zip of his overalls. Lewis pauses in the kiss, ripping his mouth away from Nico’s. His eyes are half lidded, dark with desire as he surveys the German pulling down his overalls. Nico lets a low exhale as golden skin is revealed to him once more, glowing in the low light.  
He doesn’t say anything, he merely moves to pull out his own overalls, they fall to his waist, revealing his pale chest to Lewis. Lewis glances over Nico seductively, there’s a small smile playing on his lips as he takes in the young man standing before him.  
  
Nico smiles back before he presses Lewis against the wall once more. Lewis lets out a small noise as his back hits the wall, Nico’s muscled chest rubbing against him. His skin feels like it’s on fire. Nico’s mouth is suddenly on his neck, on his collarbone, sucking marks into the golden skin.  
  
Lewis pants against Nico. “Fuck me here against the wall.”  
  
Nico nods against his skin, his golden hair tickles Lewis’s collarbone.  


* * *

  
  
The next morning, Nico wakes up with a massive headache. There’s warmth around his back and down his stomach. Confused, he glances down his body and sees a dark skinned arm resting on his belly. The warmth curls in his abdomen. Lewis is still fast asleep, breathing lightly next to him. Nico shifts slightly to glance at the Brit. Lewis looks as beautiful as ever, the freckles on his face stand out more than ever in the early morning light. Nico’s gaze flickers to the dark marks on Lewis’s neck.  
He remembers scraping his teeth against the Brit’s skin last night. He remembers the moan that came out of Lewis’s mouth. He remembers the rip of the condom packet. He remembers the two of them settling down to sleep on the bed, skin damp with sweat and semen.  
  
Lewis stirs under his gaze. He watches as the Brit slowly falls out of his sleep, and his eyes begin to move under his eyelids. Nico smiles and brushes back a loose curl from Lewis’s forehead.  
  
Lewis’s dark eyes slowly open. He immediately smiles when he sees Nico.  “Morning.”  
  
“Good morning.” Nico replies, rubbing one of his eyes.  
  
“That was an interesting night, last night.” Lewis remarks.  
  
“Indeed.” Nico can’t keep the smile off his face.  “Congratulations on the win yesterday by the way. I don’t remember telling you.” Nico feels Lewis’s fingers draw patterns on his belly.  
  
“Thank you, it felt so good to win there. I didn’t think it was going to happen, my practise runs weren’t the best. It was even better that you were there and you saw me in action.”  
  
“You’re still brilliant.”  
  
Lewis beams. “My dad hopes we can try go to Formula One next year. He’s had a lot of meetings with some big cheeses at McLaren. But I’m just focusing on this for now and giving them something to take notice of.”  
  
“That’s great, Lew.” Nico says, his voice is gentle.  
  
“Thanks, Nico. God, I feel sore this morning.” Lewis winces. He shifts slightly against Nico’s back.  
  
Nico smirks. “Sorry for that.”  
  
“No, you’re bloody not.” Lewis fires back, he presses his nose against Nico’s neck. “God, you feel so bloody good in the morning.”  
  
“Thanks.” Nico says as he feels Lewis’s mouth ghost against the sensitive skin of his neck. “Hey, can we talk about this?”  
  
“About what?” Lewis asks.  
  
“This thing between us. Whatever it is.” Nico says. He feels Lewis’s lips leave his skin.  
  
“Of course we can talk about it. What’s bothering you?”  
  
“I like you.” Nico blurts out. “I like you more than a friend…but I’m just scared to take that extra step-“  
  
“We’ve kinda already taken that next step, we crossed that line when we had sex with each other.” Lewis points out.  
  
“I know, I know. I just need to focus on my career right now and I just don’t want to-“  
  
“Hey,” Lewis says, his eyes look almost golden in the light. “Don’t worry about it, Nico. It’s okay. I like you too, as more than a friend. But I respect what you want. You’re in the career you want to be in, you want to do well. _I_ want you to do well. We’re just having fun right? Like a friends with benefits thing?”  
  
“We’re just having fun.” Nico repeats, he doesn’t believe the words as they tumble from his lips. He kisses Lewis on the cheek. 


	18. 2006 (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys tumble through 2006; Lewis is still struggling to get his foot into the ladder of Formula One and Nico is still struggling with his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lewis did indeed test the McLaren at Silverstone in 2006. Warnings for sex, I guess.  
> Thank you to everyone for asking me about how this story was progressing, it means alot that you all still wonder about it and want to see it finished. This is a shorter chapter but the next one is a long one that will make up for it!
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Lewis wins the race in Monaco. Nico has to retire his car, his throttle breaks three quarters of the way through the race. Lewis lets Nico fuck him against the wall in the Williams garage, long after the race ends. Nico thrusts into Lewis, Lewis throws his head back, knocking the wall behind. His feet are hooked around Nico’s waist.    
  
“Nico, Nico, oh god, Nico.” Lewis whispers against the blonde’s ear.     
  
Nico thrusts harder and faster. Words begin to tumble out of Lewis’s mouth. Nico leans in and bites Lewis on the neck again, his teeth scrape against the dark skin and mar it; Nico marks Lewis as his. Nico growls low under his breath as he finally lets go. They both seem to fall against the wall, panting.    
  
“That was incredible.” Lewis whispers.   
  
“I know.” Nico replies.   
  
The lights of the harbour in Monaco twinkle from Nico’s garage.    
  


* * *

  
  
The next race is Silverstone. Nico steps out of the car and takes in the imposing building before him. He knows the history of Silverstone, he knows the corners (he learnt them all during the off month before Williams had started testing.) He also knows that he’s on Lewis’s home turf right now. It’s cloudy and it looks like it’s going to start raining. Nico ignores the nausea riding up inside him and steps onto the asphalt. The nausea doesn’t go away all through the first morning of interviews or through the driver’s parade.    
Nico is lost in his thoughts when he feels somebody bump shoulders with him.   
  
“Deep in thought there, Rosberg?” Mark’s warm accent folds over him.   
  
“Sorry, Mark. I was thinking about something-“    
  
“Or  _ someone _ .” Mark says the words with a huge grin on his face.   
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nico says, defensively.    
  
Mark holds his hands up in defeat. “Listen, mate. I’m not taking the piss out of you. You and Lewis are together right?”   
  
“We’re not anything.”   
  
Mark’s smile drops. “Really? But you’re so close.”   
  
“No, we’re just fooling around-“ Nico stops and bites his lip.   
  
Mark places one of his huge hands over Nico’s. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”   
  
“Thank you,” Nico whispers, he looks up at the building again and the sickness returns.    
  
Nico glances down at the clock that has just started to signal the beginning of FP1. His palms have already begun to sweat. The mechanics remove the heating mats from his tyres and he’s given the signal. He swings the car out of the garage easily, weaving his way down to the pit exit. He can see the crowd; they’re clapping as the cars file out. There’s so many people in the crowd at Silverstone, Nico has never seen so many people watching a practise run. The car feels like a dream, the sun comes out halfway through the run, its golden fingers dance over the shiny chassis of Nico’s car. Nico can feel the wind speed, it whips against the front of his helmet, pressing him firmly against his seat. He grits his teeth as he pulls into Club Corner, committing to the apex there.    
  
He steers down towards the finish line and smiles at the time. He’s not at the top but he doesn’t expect to be, it’s a 1.22, which is a good time. He does another couple of laps, but they’re not as fast as his first initial time. Nico pulls into the pits as requested for the mechanics to check over the car. He sits back in his car, and wriggles his toes every now and then. He’s watching the other driver’s times on the screen placed before him. It’s then that he notices that Montoya isn’t driving the McLaren, it’s somebody else. He watches the sector times of the McLaren appear. The McLaren has beaten Schumacher’s first sector times easily. Nico watches transfixed as the McLaren speeds past the pit wall, on its way into another lap. Nico catches a blur of yellow. He frowns and looks at how the other cars are doing.    
  
The other McLaren doesn’t seem to improve on his time after his initial run, Schumacher improves his own time, but all everyone is discussing is the McLaren and the person driving it. Nico pulls himself out of his car. He pulls his helmet and his balaclava off and places them on the table by the side. Loosening his overalls, he decides to walk the length of the pit wall and explore the general area. The McLaren roars past him and grind to a halt. Nico watches the mechanics push it into the garage. The sunburst yellow helmet makes his heart beat faster.    
  
He’s on his way back to the pits, he stopped off and got a can of Diet Coke, he keeps his head down, his sunglasses firmly on. He’s almost reached the garage when somebody calls his name.    
  
“Nico!”   
  
Nico whips around and comes face to face with the young man who has been occupying his thoughts for the last few months. Lewis looks good; he’s barely changed. However, he’s wearing white McLaren overalls and he’s carrying his helmet under his arm.  Nico’s mouth goes dry. Was Lewis the one driving that McLaren?   
  
“Hey man.” Lewis says by way of a greeting.    
  
“Hey, Lew, what are you doing here?” Nico asks, seeing his best friend again makes the nausea rise up.   
  
Lewis smirks, the corner of his mouth curves upwards. “I’m testing for McLaren. I wanted to call you and tell you but they said I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone.”   
  
“Wait, so you were the one driving the McLaren around that set the initial fastest time?”   
  
Lewis’s cheeks turn red and he glances down at the floor. “Yeah…that was me.”   
  
There’s a moment of silence between the two.   
  
“That was incredible!” Nico finally remarks, he smiles at the Brit. “It was worth seeing the smirks wiped off Ferrari’s faces for a while.”   
  
“Thanks.” Lewis replies, his cheeks still pink. “It felt strange, it was exactly how you described it to me.”   
  
Nico folds his arms around the Brit. “You did incredible out there today, Lew. Somebody will be watching.”   
  
“I hope so, if not, I’ll carry on being your biggest fan.”    
  
Nico laughs. “You’re an idiot.”    
  
A voice speaks out behind the pair. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”    
  
Mark Webber looks at the two young men, Nico’s arms around the slighter one – Lewis’s shoulders. He smiles.    
  
“Hey, Mark.” Lewis pipes up. His cheeks are still red.    
  
“Hi Lewis, that was a brilliant drive. You can’t seriously still be in GP2 after this year, I’ve never seen anyone brake into the corners with such force before.”   
  
Lewis’s blush creeps down the side of his face. “Thank you.”   
  
Mark grins more if it were possible. “I’d hate to break up your little get together but I think a certain McLaren boss is looking for his test driver.”   
  
“Shit.” Lewis swears under his breath. “I better go, I’ll see you later.” He says, he gives Nico’s hip a quick squeeze and walks away, half jogging back to the McLaren garage.   
  
Lewis ends up outside Nico’s hotel room door late in the evening. Nico opens the door and Lewis falls against him. Their mouths meet once more, dry chapped lips drag over each other.  As they make their way to the bed, clothes are shed. Nico shrugs his way out of his boxer shorts, Lewis’s t-shirt hits the floor. They both regard each other, eyes raking over each other’s naked form, drinking in every detail greedily.  
  
Lewis presses Nico against the bed, his curls tickling Nico’s chest as he brushes his lips in a path down the German’s abdomen. Nico glances at the Brit, his eyes almost azure with desire. Lewis’s teeth worry into the skin of Nico’s hip, marking him. Nico arches against the bed, gritting his teeth against the moan that almost rolls from his lips.   
Lewis’s fingers graze over the mark when they’re making love.   
  


* * *

  
  
He doesn’t see Lewis at the races in Canada or America. The GP2 races don’t follow the Formula One races there. However, he doesn’t see the Brit in France either. It’s probably for the best, Nico almost fucks up in qualifying and his father chews him out, talking about his one opportunity and how Williams might take on someone else next year if he’s not careful. He nods and tries to look apologetic.    
  
They’re in Germany. Nico looks up at the sky, there’s dark clouds moving over. It looks like there’s a chance of rain. He pulls his jacket over himself, shivering. It doesn’t feel like summer usually does in Germany.    
  
He’s sitting in the garage, eating a banana and half watching the mechanics work on his car. He’s checking his phone every so often for updates on the GP2. The race has ended just over twenty minutes ago but sometimes the website takes a while to update. He glances at the result.   
  
1\. Bruni   
2\. Hamilton   
  
He smiles and reads through the race report.   
  
“You never told me it was this cold in Germany.” A familiar British accent pipes up.    
  
Nico looks up, his mouth half full of banana, into the eyes of his best friend. Lewis is shivering in a thin hoodie, he looks utterly miserable.    
  
“Lew, congratulations on the race.” Nico remarks.    
  
Lewis gives him a brief smile. “Hey, Nico, thanks. I see you are working hard. Is it difficult being a Formula One driver?” He teases.   
  
“Only when you have a dad who is a Formula One Champion.” Nico fires back.   
  
“Touche.” Lewis says. He continues to shiver.    
  
“Why didn’t you bring a coat?”   
  
“It’s July, Nico. Germany was hot the last time I came here.” Lewis whines.   
  
Nico sighs and disappears into the garage. Lewis watches him go, eyebrow raised. He has to work hard to keep his eyes off Nico’s arse.  Nico returns a moment later and tosses a jacket at Lewis. “Here, don’t say I don’t do anything for you, have to protect your skinny ass.” He mutters.    
  
Lewis looks down at the coat in his hand. It’s a William’s branded one – it’s white and there’s Nico’s name embroidered into it. Lewis shrugs it on. It’s big, the shoulders are loose but if it’s supposed to be for Nico to wear – that’s to be expected. Nico glances up as Lewis pulls on his jacket. Seeing Lewis in his clothes, with his name emblazoned across Lewis’s chest sends a thrill through Nico.   
  
“Is that better?” He asks after a moment.   
  
Lewis nods, he’s no longer shaking.   
  


* * *

  
  
Nico watches the race the next day, Lewis finishes third. He gives his interview wrapped up in Nico’s coat. Nico feels a curl of heat in his thigh as he sees Lewis wrapped up in the big, white coat. Rosberg barely visible across his chest.   
  
Mark texts him.   _ I saw the interview. Could he be any more obvious? _ _   
_   
Nico sends him a text back laden with expletives in Spanish, French, German and Italian.   
  
_ Love you too, blondie. _   
  


* * *

  
  
Later that night, Nico visits Lewis. Lewis answers the door in just his boxer shorts. Nico’s eyes rake over Lewis’s body. There’s silence between them.   
  
Nico finally breaks it. “I missed you, Lew.”   
  
“I missed you too, Nico.” Lewis’s voice is quiet. He’s wrapped his arms around himself. “Do you want to come in?”   
  
Nico nods and follows Lewis into the room. Lewis throws himself down on the bed and beckons for Nico to follow him. Nico crawls onto the bed next to Lewis, smiling when Lewis moves his foot to graze against Nico’s.    
  
“Remember all those nights we used to sit in hotel rooms like this one and talk about our futures and what was going to happen?” Lewis says quietly.   
Nico hums in agreement.   
  
“And now you’re in Formula One _ -“ And not with me _ , remains unsaid.   
  
“Hey,” Nico says softly. He turns onto his side and grasps Lewis’s chin in his hand. Lewis turns into the touch ever so slightly. The pad of Nico’s fingers are rough, rough from driving, Lewis thinks for a moment, against his skin.    
  
“What?” Lewis asks.   
  
“You’ll get there, I know you will.” Nico whispers, his eyes are almost black in the faint light. He leans in and presses a kiss to Lewis’s hair.    
  
Nico presses Lewis into the mattress and fucks him hard. Lewis cries out Nico’s name into the evening air. Nico pulls out of Lewis and watches the Brit go to sleep in his hold. Lewis’s eyelids fall closed, his breathing evens out. Nico watches him sleep for a moment, he looks calm in rest. The frown lines are gone, his face is completely relaxed. His mouth is slightly open.    
  
“I love you, Lew.” Nico whispers as he presses another kiss to Lewis’s hair.    
  
He settles down next to the Brit and lets sleep take him.   
  


* * *

  
  
Nico calls Lewis after the race in Budapest.  
  
“I need you.” He whispers.  
  
Lewis is outside his door in ten minutes. There’s a soft knock on the door before Lewis walks straight in. Nico closes his eyes and presses his face further into the duvet. He feels the bed dip down and a familiar warmth leaks through the duvet to his thigh. Soft fingers gently press through his hair and trace circles on his scalp. Lewis hums a song under his breath. Nico relaxes under Lewis’s touch, the Brit’s fingers gently card through his hair. His other hand moves underneath the duvet to clasp Nico’s. Nico exhales as he feels Lewis’s cool fingers twine with his own.  
  
“I want to be the best. How can I be the best if my car keeps breaking down?” Nico finally breaks the silence, his voice cracking.   
  
Lewis doesn’t say anything, he carries on stroking Nico’s hair.   
  
“I just…I want to win.” Nico whispers, his voice is hoarse.   
  
“I know you do…I know it’s frustrating for you. But you’re going to be fine.”  
  
“How do you know that?” Nico’s voice is so small, Lewis hates it.   
  
“Because you’re a Rosberg, you fight until the end.” Lewis says, there’s a glint of intent in his voice.   
  
He pulls back the covers, revealing Nico’s face. Nico’s hair is ruffled and fluffy, his eyes are red and there’s tears in the corners of them but there’s the beginnings of a smile on his face.   
  
“I don’t deserve you.” He says, he glances away from Lewis.  
  
Lewis moves his hand from Nico’s hair to grasp at his chin. His brown eyes lock on Nico. “Don’t you ever say that, you’re Nico Rosberg. You won GP2, you’re a Formula One driver. You deserve everything.”  
  
Nico nods against Lewis’s hand. Lewis climbs into bed with Nico, his arms fold around the taller man. He keeps hold of one of Nico’s hands, their fingers still twined together, over Nico’s belly. Nico sighs and lets Lewis hold him.  
  
“Love you.” Lewis whispers into the night after he thinks Nico has fallen asleep.   
  
Nico falls asleep after that, warm and safe in Lewis’s embrace.  
  


* * *

  
  
In Istanbul, they fuck again after the race against the door of Nico’s hotel room.   
  
“Oh god, Nico.” Lewis moans as the German thrusts himself up inside him.    
  
Nico doesn’t say anything, he just glances at Lewis’s head thrown back, at Lewis’s fingernails scratching half-moon crescents into his back.    
  
“Love you.” Nico whispers against his skin but Lewis comes at that moment all over Nico’s hand.    
  
Lewis glances at Nico through half lidded eyes, his iris has melted into the pupil, his eyes are liquid black and full of love. Nico swallows back the nausea.   
  


* * *

  
  
Italy is Lewis’s final race, he’s firmly in the lead in the Championship, he needs to score two podium finishes to retain first position. Nico watches Lewis’s two races from the stands with the crowds. The first is straightforward; Lewis finishes in third place. Just before the second race starts, Nico glances around and notices Union Jack flags bearing Lewis’s name and people calling out the Brit’s name. A smile floats across his face as he takes in the atmosphere around him. Lewis is on the track, helmet already on, checking over things in his car.  Lewis glances up towards the crowd, his helmet glints in the sunlight. Nico swears that his head gives a slight inclination in his direction.    
  
Nico feels the nausea rise up again inside his chest as he watches the car line up after their formation lap. The lights go out. Nico leans over the railings, his eyes never leave a certain yellow helmet. He feels his heart pound against his ribs as the cars roar into action, the sound of the engine hits the wet air. Lewis’s car pulls out in front of the rest, the yellow helmet shines out like a beacon.  Nico’s eyes follow it until it rounds the corner and disappears.  He worries his lip as he glances onto the main screen, following the number 44 whenever it appears.    
  
Lewis ends up finishing second. Nico cheers from the crowd. Lewis accepts the trophy with a huge smile plastered across his face – he looks into the crowd. Nico wonders if he’s looking for him. He begins to make his way down to the paddock, the only thought in his mind is that of Lewis.  
  
Lewis suits victory. He swaggers around on the podium, spraying the other two victors with champagne. His overalls are sticky under the lights.  Lewis glances up at the crowd as he sprays Nelson and Giorgio with champagne. He wonders if a certain blonde driver is watching; he knows Nico is in Italy, he’s seen Keke walking around in the paddock. He sips from the bottle every so often and tries to imagine what it would be like doing this after driving a Formula One driver, with the roar of the crowd behind you. Lewis glances up at the audience and smiles. He’s stepping down from the podium, smiling at the clap on the back from Nelson and the handshake from Giorgio when somebody throws themselves on him. He freezes for a moment, before the familiar smell of strawberries hits him. Nico.    
He feels his mouth curve into a smile.    
  
“Congratulations, champion.” Nico whispers into his ear.   
  
Lewis grins at the blonde. But before he can say anything, Nico leans forward and pulls their lips together for a kiss. Lewis gasps as Nico’s lips fall against his own chapped ones, Nico’s hands grasping Lewis’s overalls. He closes his eyes and ignores the crowd around them; the din seems to melt away as he focuses solely on the young man before him. He moans slightly as Nico flicks his tongue against his lips, they’re warm and soft.  Nico’s hands are warm against his back. Lewis can only think about Nico, Nico, Nico in that moment. His thoughts are filled with nothing but blonde hair and warm lips.    
  
“Nico?” Somebody’s voice cuts across the pair.   
  
Nico pulls his lips away from Lewis’s reluctantly. Lewis glances at the young man opposite him; his lips dark red and swollen, his eyes dark with desire. There’s a small smudge of engine grease on his cheek where Lewis had grasped at his face with his driving gloves on. They both glance over to see Keke watching them, carefully. His eyes – so similar to Nico’s are narrowed – and he’s scrutinising the pair. Lewis realises that Nico’s arms are still on his arse.    
Nico goes pale.    
  
“Dad-“ He whispers, his eyes wide with shock.    
  
Lewis feels Nico’s hands fall away from his arse, he ignores the tug in his chest at the gesture.   
  
Keke raises an eyebrow, his arms are folded. He doesn’t look angry, his eyes betray nothing. Nico looks down at his shoes. Lewis glances between father and son, biting his lip. His racing overalls suddenly feel too tight. Keke glances between Nico and Lewis for a moment before he turns on his heel and walks away. Nico glances quickly at Lewis for a moment – pained blue eyes lock on brown – before he runs after his father. He ignores the pained look he can feel on his back as he follows his father’s back – the greying hair disappearing into the crowd.   
  
“Dad, wait.” He yells into the din of the crowd.    
  


* * *

  
  
Keke is sitting in one of the couches in the Williams motorhome, the door is locked and the blinds are drawn. Nico glances up at his father, his face betrays no emotion.    
  
“Dad-“   
  
Keke’s pale blue eyes – so similar to Nico’s own – stare back at Nico. Nico feels himself shrink under his father’s gaze. His lips still tingle from Lewis’s kisses.    
  
“Dad, I’m sorry-“   
  
“Nico, I don’t want to hear it.” Keke says, his voice is careful, controlled.   
  
Nico’s head drops down to his feet. His palms are sweaty. He wipes him on his jeans, his teeth worrying his lip. He keeps glancing at his father, who stares back, stony-faced.   
  
“What were you thinking, Nico?” Keke finally spits, destroying the silence.   
  
“I…I.” Any resistance dies on the young German’s tongue.    
  
“You just went out in front of that entire crowd and kissed a man on the lips…not just any man… _ Lewis Hamilton _ . What were you thinking, Nico?”   
  
“I wasn’t thinking, Dad, I-“   
  
“That’s exactly my point, Nico. You don’t  _ think _ . I thought you were mature enough to handle this. But clearly, you’re not.”   
  
“Dad, you’re been unfair.” Nico’s hand shoots up, his blue eyes darkening with anger.    
  
“Unfair? Nico, do you know how much it took to get you into Formula One and you’re willing to throw it all away for someone like  _ him _ ?”   
  
“Dad, stop talking about Lewis like-“   
  
“I’ll talk about him however I like, Nico. He’s nobody-“   
  
“Don’t you ever say that.” Nico says, turning defensive. “You don’t get to say those things to me. It’s my life and you need to stop controlling it.” He stands up, the sound of the chair against the hard wood flooring tears through the silence. Nico blinks back the tears as he walks away from his father.    
  
His hand is on the door handle when Keke speaks once more. “I don’t mind you being gay, Nico. I want you to understand that. But of all people, why  _ him _ ?”   
  
Nico doesn’t say anything as he leaves the motorhome. 


	19. 2006 (Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico struggles through his first year in Formula One and with his growing feelings for the new GP2 Champion. Lewis on the other hand, is hiding something big.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I posted a new chapter, been a busy couple of weeks and I'm expecting the same next week so I thought I'd reward you all with this. Warnings of sex. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

Nico’s next race is in China. He keeps his conversations with his father to a minimum. He doesn’t talk to Lewis either, his phone is strangely silent. It’s almost like Lewis knows that it’s best for him to stay quiet. Nico glances at his phone whenever he gets the chance over the race weekend. His finger hovers over Lewis’s contact, his dark blue eyes glance over the picture of his best friend smiling back at him. He feels a pain inside his chest as one of the mechanics calls him over to the car. Nico sighs heavily and tucks his phone back into his locker.    
  
He comes eleventh in the race. His father grabs him for a hug, his chin resting on top of Nico’s helmet. Nico ignores the twisting sensation in his belly.

* * *

  
  
Nico bites the bullet and calls Lewis a few days before he’s due to fly out for the Japanese GP.  
  
“Hello?” Lewis sounds hesitant.  
  
“Hey _champion_ , it’s me.” Nico says after a moment’s silence. “I was wondering how you were doing?”  
  
Lewis laughs a little. Nico feels the warmth spread across his thighs at the sound, he’s missed it, he’s missed Lewis’s laugh. “I’m okay, Nico. I’m just sorting through different things, trying to get on top of things. How is everything going? I watched the China GP on the television. Fell asleep halfway through when they stopped showing your car.”  
  
Nico feels the blush dance across his cheeks. “About that,” He says, his mouth suddenly becoming rather dry. “I was wondering if you wanted to come to Japan? I mean, to see me.”  
  
Lewis is quiet for a moment, as though he’s milling things over. Nico can imagine him right now, he’d be running his hand through his hair, tapping his feet against his chair, his lip caught between his teeth.  
  
“Sure, but I better be a VIP, Rosberg.”  
  
Nico laughs. “For sure, Lew.”

* * *

  
  
Lewis texts Nico the second he lands in Japan. Nico drives over to pick him up at the airport. He’s leaning on one of the airport baggage trolleys, glancing through the crowds.  He narrows his blue eyes and glances down at his phone. However, before he can finish composing the message, he’s assaulted by a pair of arms wrapping around him. Nico’s eyes widen as his nose hits something soft and fluffy – he looks down to see dark brown curls resting in front of his face. The familiar scent of vanilla and Lynx drifts up around Nico. He closes his eyes and smiles. _Lewis_ .  
  
Lewis lifts his head to look at Nico. He smiles at the German. “Hey, man, did you miss me?” He asks.  
  
Nico looks at Lewis’s eyes, the flecks of gold mixed in with brown, the light dusting of facial hair on his face. He feels his lips curve up into a smirk. “As if I missed your sorry arse.”  
  
“Oh, I forgot, now you’re a bigshot Formula One driver…so is Angelina Jolie coming by later in her Porsche?”  
  
Nico snorts. “Lew, I’m not _that_ famous.”  
  
“So you missed me?” Lewis asks again, Nico keeps looking at the gap in between Lewis’s teeth, the gap that has been there since their teens. It seems like so long ago, that they kissed roughly, their hands pulling at each other’s clothes, exploring each other’s bodies.  
  
“Of course, I missed you, you idiot.”  
  
Lewis laughs. “Just checking.”  
  
Nico shakes his head and leads Lewis and his luggage to his car. “Wow, you have a Porsche.” Lewis whistles.  
  
Nico smiles at his best friend and takes out his car keys. “Perks of the job.”  
  
Lewis grins and snatches the keys out of Nico’s hands. He slides into the driving seat. Nico raises an eyebrow. “You are not driving my car.”  
  
“Watch me.” Lewis replies, winking at the blonde.  
  
Nico rolls his eyes and tosses Lewis’s suitcase onto the back seat.

* * *

  
  
Lewis it turns out, has lost none of his speed. The windows are rolled down all the way. Lewis's foot presses down on the accelerator pedal as he yells at the top of his voice, whooping with joy as the car speeds over the smooth road ahead. Nico glances over to the Brit, unable to keep the smile off his face as he takes in the image of his best friend before him. Lewis looks happy and healthy, dressed in a black t-shirt and loose jeans, his curls are ruffled by the strong wind.  
  
“What are you smiling about?” Lewis asks, still half-laughing. There’s little crinkles in the corners of his eyes.  
  
“You.” Nico admits.  
  
Lewis winks at him once more and the Porsche rolls over the road, the engine roars.

* * *

  
  
Nico glances at Lewis in the paddock, the Williams pass, marking him out as a guest of the Williams team, hangs around his neck. He’s talking animatedly to Kuba, already dressed in his team overalls, his hands waving around.  
  
“I see you brought a guest.” A familiar warm accent pipes up behind Nico.  
  
Nico jolts, his cheeks turning pink. He spins around to see Mark smirking at him, already in his racing overalls, helmet tucked underneath his arm. He surveys Lewis, a smirk curling around his lips.  
  
“He looks excited to be here.”  
  
Nico sighs. “You have no idea. He’s already borrowed a golf cart and driven around the track. Everyone thought he was one of the drivers.” He eyes the Brit carefully. He looks comfortable as he continues talking to Kuba, mirrored sunglasses hide his dark brown eyes.  
  
Mark watches Lewis carefully. “So have you told him you love him yet?”  
  
Nico almost chokes. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“I think you know what I’m talking about, Nico.” Mark says, his voice sounds serious. His dark blue eyes do not lift from Lewis.  
  
The two men watch as Lewis suddenly sees Sebastian appear next to Kuba, Lewis’s grin gets wider as he falls himself forward into the blonde’s arms. Nico looks at the pair, his eyes hold a touch of hurt.  
  
“I saw the pass, Nico.”  
  
“I wanted him to see me race. I might not be here next year. He will be.”  
  
“How can you know that?”  
  
“Lewis was always better at karting than me. He was always faster, he won the most races.” Nico looks away.  
  
“Doesn’t mean anything, Nico, and you know it.”  
  
“Maybe not, but I always felt that it should be him doing what I am doing-“  
  
“Who are you talking about?” A familiar voice interrupts. Nico’s shoulders stiffen as Lewis appears next to them, grinning from ear to ear. He’s wearing a BMW cap that Nico has never seen before.  
  
“Where did you get that?” Nico asks, changing the subject.  
  
“Sebastian.” Lewis laughs. He doesn’t notice the subtle narrow of Nico’s eyes.  
  
“Oh hey, Mark.”  
  
Mark accepts Lewis’s handshake.  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
“Nico invited me. GP2 is over and I guess he figured I was getting bored-“  
  
“Oh,” Mark has the biggest grin on his face. “Not because he missed you then.”  
  
Lewis turns pink. “He doesn’t have time to miss me, he’s a Formula One driver now.” He jokes.  
  
“I’ve heard that you’re not far behind. Nico told me you won the GP2 last month.”  
  
The colour doesn’t fade from Lewis’s cheeks.  
  
“And you test drove for Mercedes at Silverstone?”  
  
Lewis nods. “But I’m here to support Nico right now.”  
  
Mark doesn’t say anything else, he just smiles, his eyes dancing. Nico wants to disappear.

* * *

  
  
After qualifying, Nico sits inside the cockpit of his car, glancing at the data on the screen before him. Lewis is standing by the side, his eyes fixed on the screens, he’s wearing a headset and worrying the fingernail of his thumb. Nico eventually pulls himself out of his car, giving it a small pat as he begins to unclips his head and neck guard from his helmet. He pulls off his helmet next, holding it gently in his hands as he looks over to Lewis. Lewis has pulled off the headset and stands before Nico, worrying his lip.  
  
“You were amazing out there.” Lewis says, his voice is merely audible over the din in the other garages.  
  
“Thanks.” Nico replies, his voice muffled by his balaclava.  
  
Lewis looks over Nico, his gaze taking in every detail of the blonde before him. “You are amazing. Thank you for letting me seeing you race.” Lewis’s voice wavers ever so slightly.  
  
Nico steps forward and reaches out for Lewis’s hand. The gloved hand wraps around a bare, dark-skinned one. Lewis sighs as Nico begins to draw circles on the back of his hand. Nico lets out a ragged breath, he can feel his cock swell in his already tight overalls. “Lewis-“  
  
“Nico, I-“ Lewis begins but the words die in his mouth as Nico pulls him away into the back of the garage. Nico places his helmet carefully on one side of his dresser before he turns around and presses Lewis against the door.  
  
Lewis’s brown eyes go wide as he feels Nico’s body – hard against him – press him into the wood. “Oh god, Nico.” He whispers.  
  
Nico smiles against the Brit. Lewis reaches out and pulls off Nico’s balaclava slowly, he throws it across the room and immediately Nico’s now-revealed lips latch onto his own. Lewis kisses back with the same ferocity, moaning into Nico’s mouth as the German’s hands dance down the sides of his body, one rests on his hip, the other moves down to work at the zipper to Lewis’s jeans.  
  
“I’ve wanted to do this for ages. I missed you.” Nico whispers against Lewis’s lips.  
  
“I missed you too.” Lewis replies during kisses. His head falls back against the wood of the door. “I thought after your father-“  
  
“I’m an adult, Lew. He doesn’t govern my life.” Nico says, his voice low and husky. He drops his head to nip gently at Lewis’s neck.  
  
“Oh god, Nico. You’re perfect.” Lewis says, almost breathless.  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything, he just continues to nip at the soft skin on Lewis’s neck, smirking at the soft moans he elicits from the Brit. His hands finally manage to unzip Lewis’s jeans and one of them slips inside, underneath his underwear. Lewis gasps against Nico’s soft blonde hair as Nico’s hand wraps around his cock.  
  
“Oh, god, Nico, Nico-“ Lewis whispers as Nico’s hand tugs on his cock, his mouth on Lewis’s neck – his, his his – Lewis pulls Nico’s head up and smashes their lips together, their tongues move as one, Nico feels Lewis’s teeth bite at his tongue and he hisses in pain. Nico rips his mouth away and the pair look into each other’s eyes for a moment – blue lock on brown – Nico pants, glancing at Lewis’s swollen red lips.  
  
“I need you.” Lewis whispers.  
  
He moves forward, his fingers wrap around the zip at the top of Nico’s overalls. He glances at Nico, as though to ask for permission. Nico just holds his gaze, the smirk curving over his swollen lips as Lewis tugs down the zip in one fluid motion. Lewis pushes up his undershirt underneath, exposing his bare skin. His fingers run over the light muscle.    
  
“Lube is in the pocket of my jeans.” Lewis says, his voice is barely a whisper.  
  
Nico pushes Lewis back against the door, Lewis’s head knocks against the wood. He smirks as he glances over the Brit. “You brought lube.”  
  
“Well, I figured you would be horny after the race.” Lewis’s eyes glint.  
  
Nico’s swollen cock, free from his overalls, rubs against Lewis’s thigh. Lewis groans once more, Nico silences him with his mouth. He gropes around inside Lewis’s pocket, his finger curl around a small bottle. He pulls away from the Brit once more, a moan of distaste rips from Lewis’s lips, but Lewis moves his head to suck a mark onto Nico’s neck, just above his turtleneck.  
  
“Lew.” His name almost leaves Nico’s lips as a whisper.  
  
He hurriedly squirts a generous amount of the lube on his hand. Lewis continues scraping his teeth against Nico’s neck. Nico spreads the lube all over his engorged cock and positions himself against Lewis’s entrance. Lewis’s teeth brush against Nico’s neck, bruising the pale skin. Nico presses himself inside Lewis, holding the Brit against the door. Lewis stiffens against his neck, his head falls back against the door.  
  
“Oh, god, Nico.” Lewis hisses into the air, Nico’s hands move to his hips to hold him against the door. His pupils are fully blown; they look black in the light. Lewis looks pained for a moment, until Nico begins to move.  
  
“You feel so good.” Nico mutters, his voice was hoarse, his mouth dry.  
  
Lewis rolled his hips ever so slightly, Nico bit back a groan at the sensation; his cock fully engulfed inside Lewis. Nico’s fingers raked down Lewis’s thighs leaving scratches on the golden skin.  
  
“Harder, faster.” Lewis spits out, moving his hips once more.  
  
Nico smirks. “So demanding.” He pushes up inside of Lewis, fucking him hard.  
  
His cock pumps in and out, his chest hitting Lewis’s, Lewis’s swollen cock brushing against his stomach, Nico can feel the wetness through Lewis’s jeans.  
  
“Somebody’s excited.” He smirks. His mouth latches back onto Lewis’s neck, leaving another mark, closer to his collarbone.  
  
“Enough of the foreplay and teasing, Rosberg.” Lewis hisses under his breath, his voice cracks a little.  
  
The smirk lingers on Nico’s face as he thrusts up into Lewis. Lewis’s mouth falls open, pleasure spreading across his face. His eyes close. Nico’s thrusts become more and more heated, more animated. He thrusts up hard and fast into Lewis, making the Brit’s body slam against the door, the wood makes a dull thud.  
  
“Oh mein gott.” Nico whispers, his breathing begins to falter as he comes inside Lewis, falling against the Brit.  
  
Lewis gasps as he comes inside his jeans. Nico knows when Lewis comes, he recognises the bitten lip, the slight darkening of his irises. They stand up against the door for a moment. Lewis pants heavily, glancing at Nico. His eyes are dark, Nico can’t recognise where the iris begins and the pupil ends.  
  
“That was amazing.” Lewis says after a moment.  
  
“You just got fucked by a Formula One driver.” Nico says, he can’t resist. He laughs when Lewis smacks his arm.  
  
“Idiot.” He says fondly as Nico zips up his overalls again and pushes a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it.

* * *

  
  
Mark passes him on the day of the race and smirks. His dark eyes linger over the red mark just poking out over Nico’s turtleneck.  
  
“I had no idea Lewis liked it so rough.” He whispers to the German.  
  
Nico feels his cheeks go red.  
  
“Oh, and next time, Nico? Go and get a private hotel room. Your boyfriend sure makes a lot of noise.” The smirk quirks across his lips.  
  
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Nico mutters, walking away from Mark with blush dancing across his cheeks.  
  
He and Lewis fuck again after the race, this time in Nico’s hotel room. Nico presses Lewis against the shower, whispering _I love you_ into his skin.

* * *

 

Nico invites Lewis to Brazil. His father overhears the phone conversation but he doesn’t say anything. His mouth just curls into a thin line. Nico ignores the glare on his back and laughs at something Lewis said. Lewis arrives wearing mirrored sunglasses and a suit. Nico raises an eyebrow at Lewis’s choice of attire, the suit is a navy colour and it fits him like a glove. He removes his sunglasses and gives Nico a small smile. There’s dark circles under his eyes. Nico glances at him, worried.  
  
“Are you okay?” He asks, gently.  
  
“I’m fine.” Lewis waves away his concern, the small smile stays on his face. “I was in meetings all day with McLaren...so I figured I should just go to the airport straight from there.”  
  
Nico nods, he notices the twitch in Lewis’s fingers. Lewis puts his mirrored sunglasses back on, hiding the dark circles.  
  
“You should sleep. You can go back to my trailer and sleep, I have a bunch of interviews to do anyway.” Nico says, worry tinging his voice.  
  
Lewis bites his lip. “Are you sure? I don’t want to-“  
  
“Lew, go and sleep for a couple of hours.” Nico says, his voice holding a tone of finality.  
  
Lewis sighs and allows himself to be led to Nico’s motorhome.  
  
He whistles out loud as he takes in the sheer size of the room. “Well, this sure beats the ones we used to have to stay in when we were twelve, huh?”  
  
Nico makes a non-committal noise. “Yeah, this one is nothing compared to the ones that Ferrari and McLaren have.”  
  
Lewis looks uncomfortable at the mere mention of McLaren, he shifts from side to side. “So when is Free Practise?” He asks, changing the subject.  
  
“In a couple of hours.” Nico replies, checking his fancy new watch to make sure.  
  
“Are you sure you are okay with me being here?” Lewis sounds uncertain.  
  
Nico’s eyes widen at his best friend’s words. “Of course I am, it’s the last race of the season and I want you here.”  
  
Lewis gives him a small smile, the one that doesn’t get used very often but Nico always seems to see it – and he moves towards Nico, enveloping him in a hug. Nico feels the Brit sigh against his collarbone and ignores the feeling in his chest at the sensation of Lewis pressed up against him – a warm, familiar heat – Lewis’s hands are warm around his back.  
  
Lewis pulls away after a moment and runs a hand through his hair. “I missed you.”  
  
“You saw me a couple of weeks ago.” Nico says, laughing.  
  
“I know…but it’s not the same.” Lewis says, the smile is still on his face but he looks away.  
  
Nico bites his lip. He hates how awkward they’ve become. He hates how every little touch has to be analysed.  Lewis moves away to the couch and begins to pull off his shoes.  
  
“What are you doing?” Nico asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“I’m taking off my shoes…you don’t want your couch getting dirty do you?”  
  
“You idiot…you can stay in my bed.” Nico says.  
  
Lewis’s eyes widen. “Are you sure? Your dad might-“  
  
Nico waves away the Brit’s concern. “My dad doesn’t ever come in here…he’s in the paddock most likely talking to anyone and everyone.”  
  
Lewis sighs, worrying his lip between his teeth before he stands up. “Okay, okay. I’ll get in your bed, Rosberg, but I don’t do snuggles.” The wide grin is back – the one that doesn’t quite touch his eyes – as he follows Nico into his bedroom.  
  
“Yeah right.” Nico says as he sits down on the bed.  
  
Lewis takes his suit jacket off and drapes it on the back of the chair.  
  
“Why are you in a suit anyway? I don’t think I’ve seen you in a suit ever.” Nico teases, he’s trying not to glance at the light muscles underneath Lewis’s white shirt.  
  
Lewis smiles fondly at Nico as he undoes the cufflinks from his shirt sleeves. They glint in the sunlight. “Had some people I needed to impress.”  
  
Nico raises an eyebrow. “If you’re going into secret service, I need to know.”  
  
“No…nothing like that. I can’t tell anyone yet…I want to, but-“ He unbuttons the white shirt, turning around to the side slightly to place his cufflinks on the table. Nico feels his mouth go dry when he stares at the curve of Lewis’s bare back, his caramel coloured skin is unblemished.  
  
“I understand.” Nico finally bites out as Lewis’s trousers fall down in a heap on the floor.  He can’t take his eyes off Lewis’s muscular legs, off the curve off the arse in his boxer shorts.  
  
“Are you sure I can stay here?” Lewis asks, his eyes look uncertain.  
  
Nico smiles and nods. “For sure, now get some rest.”  
  
Lewis climbs into Nico’s bed and burrows his face in the soft pillow, the scent of Nico – of strawberries – drift up inside his nostrils. He sighs heavily and goes to get comfortable. All he can think about is Nico sleeping in this very bed, in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts – he feels his cock swell against the thin material of his underwear.  He thinks about long blonde hair, dark blue eyes, lips curved into a smile, just for him.  
  
“I’ve got to stop thinking about you.” He whispers to himself. He turns over and faces the wall.

* * *

  
  
Nico curses as he arrives back at the motorhome five hours later. The interviews had taken longer than he expected and then his father had ended up dragging him over to meet everyone and anyone that he knew. He steps into the motorhome and stalks over to the fridge. He pulls out a fresh bottle of ice water and downs half of it in one gulp. He splashes out a small amount into his hand and wets his face and his hair. The icy water runs down his temple and he sighs, enjoying the sensation. Nico brushes back his long blonde hair, wincing at the sweat sticking to the back of his neck.  
  
He stalks towards his bedroom and begins to shuck himself out of his overalls. He glances towards the bed and stops. Lewis is still fast asleep in his bed, curled up against the wall. He’s half out of the covers; one leg is poking out of the sheets. Nico watches the Brit sleep for a moment, watches his chest rise and fall, his deep even breaths. His racing overalls hit the floor in a pile. He pulls off his underclothes, leaving them on the floor. He hesitates for a moment, standing over the sleeping Brit before he slides into the bed next to Lewis. Nico moves closer to the Brit, who seems to recognise the German in his sleep and relaxs against Nico’s chest. Nico’s hand move around to clasp Lewis’s waist, his fingers gently grazing against Lewis’s lower abdomen. Lewis sighs in his sleep. Nico smiles and buries his face in Lewis’s shoulder, his nose brushing against the warmth. He soon is pulled under, his dreams full of the young man he is holding.  
  
Lewis wakes up twenty minutes later. He feels warm arms encase him and the faint smell of sweat, oil and strawberries is stronger than ever. He turns slightly and is met with soft, blonde hair and dark eyelashes, hiding blue eyes. Nico looks younger than usual, all the lines on his face smoothed out. Lewis smiles and settles back down in the young driver’s arms, drifting back to sleep.

* * *

  
  
Lewis walks around the paddock on race day looking energised. Nico watches him dance from person to person, talking animatedly. He tries to keep his eyes on the data readouts in front of him but he’s drawn to that familiar British drawl. Lewis is wearing one of Nico’s own t-shirts and the ever present Williams pass is wrapped around his neck. Nico feels his heart beat against his chest as he glances at his best friend, wearing his oversized t-shirt.  
  
“So, is that your boyfriend, Britney?” A familiar English drawl, not so different to Lewis’s, rings out from behind the German.  
  
Nico whips around, his cheeks begin to redden. “He’s not my boyfriend-“  
  
Jenson Button stands before the blonde, a smirk tugging on his lips. He claps Nico on the shoulder, “It’s okay if he is, you know.”  
  
“Well, he’s not. He’s just a friend.”  
  
“ _Friend_ , okay.” Jenson says, the smirk stays on his lips. “He’s pretty cute though.”  
  
Nico’s eyes narrow. He glances away from Lewis giving Jenson his full attention.  
  
“What are you talking about?” He tries to keep his voice steady.  
  
“I’m saying…that your friend is pretty cute, Rosberg.”  
  
A sudden warmth envelopes Nico’s back, the familiar scent of vanilla fills Nico’s nostrils and he stiffens ever so slightly. “Miss me, Nico?” A familiar British accent whispers in his ear. He turns slightly to smile at his best friend.  
  
“Of course not, you were the one who disappeared the second we got into the paddock.” He says, jokingly.  
  
Lewis tilts his head and glances over at Jenson for a moment. “Oh hey, sorry am I interrupting?”  
  
Jenson grins widely at the fellow Brit and holds out his hand. Lewis slides off Nico and accepts the handshake.  
  
“Jenson Button. I drive for Lucky Strike Honda.”  
  
“Lewis Hamilton, I don’t drive here.” He smiles.  
  
“Oh, you’re Lewis Hamilton? I’ve heard lots about you from _Nico_ here.” He smirks at the German. His fingers dance over Lewis’s. Lewis looks confused.  
  
“What are you talking about?” Lewis asks, his dark eyes dancing between the pair.  Nico’s narrowed gaze looks up from the pair’s entwined hands.  
  
“Nico talks about you a lot. You’re the boy he used to race in karts right?”  
  
Lewis gives the Brit a small smile. “I am, but there’s no way Nico talks about me, right Nico?” He drops his hand away from Jenson’s, his eyes dance over towards the German.  
  
Nico grins back at Lewis and drops his arm over the Brit’s shoulders. “Of course not. I’ve got more important things to talk about.”  
  
Jenson watches them with a knowing glint in his blue eyes.

* * *

  
  
Nico ends up retiring from the race without completing a single lap. He ended up hitting Mark’s car, taking him out of the race. He continues, powering up the uphill main straight, his foot flat on the accelerator pedal. He feels his car jolt to one side, but ignores it and carries on. He feels his front tyre lock up and skids to the side, hitting one of the barriers. The team radio immediately flickers to life.  
  
“Nico, Nico…” His engineer is calling his name. He lets his head sink back into the seat. He thinks about Lewis in the Williams garage, biting on his nails, listening to Nico’s voice over the tinny headset.  
  
“I’m okay. I’m okay.” He says.

* * *

  
_  
_ He manages to walk back to the pits, fine but a little shaken. He keeps his helmet on and his head down as he walks into the paddock. The crowd are still roaring as the other cars roar past in a long line behind the safety car. He tries not to think about his father’s face, not to think about the disappointment reflected in the dark blue eyes. He tries not to think about the look on Lewis’s face when he walks into the garage – he wonders if it would be a look of pity.  
  
He finally makes it to the garage and immediately somebody throws themselves on him. He smells the familiar scent of vanilla and the touch of curly hair against his chin, he glances down to see his best friend with his arms wrapped around him, his head tucked into Nico’s chest.  
  
“I’m okay.” Nico whispers, his arms moving to wrap around the slighter Brit.  
  
Lewis doesn’t say anything for a moment, he just breathes against Nico’s collarbone, comfortable enough to just take in the moment – to feel Nico alive against him.  
  
“You’re a fucking idiot.” Lewis says, thickly. He lifts his head, there’s a tear in the corner of his eye. “You’re a _fucking_ idiot, Nico Rosberg.”  
  
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Nico whispers.  
  
They glance into each other’s eyes for a moment. Lewis bites his lip and reluctantly lets go of Nico. Nico bemoans the warmth and comfort.  
  
His father says nothing, he doesn’t need to; his eyes say it all. He pats Nico’s shoulder for a moment. His touch doesn’t linger.  
  
Lewis approaches Nico after his father leaves. His hand closes over Nico’s, his hands are warm, his fingers remind Nico of his own; they’re blistered and worn from using too many clutches and steering wheels. Lewis’s finger brushes over the new callous on Nico’s thumb before he leads him away to the back room. They watch the rest of the race in silence on the huge television. Lewis’s hand never leaves Nico’s.

* * *

  
  
Nico doesn’t see Lewis all summer. His father pushes him extra hard into training sessions and analysing every single bit of data. Nico thinks if he has to go in one more simulator, he’s going to scream. He does think about Lewis sometimes when he’s driving around. He thinks about golden skin, dark brown eyes. His heartbeat sometimes picks up a little more. His dad asks why.  
  
“Nico!”  
  
Nico raises an eyebrow, his father doesn’t often shout. He walks into the lounge.  
  
“What’s the matter-“ The words die on his lips as he sees Lewis’s face staring back at him from the television. His mouth drops open because Lewis is sitting at a table clad in McLaren Mercedes overalls and he’s signing a contract and there’s Ron Dennis smiling, _smiling at Lewis_ -  
  
“Finally, McLaren have announced that their new driver will be twenty one year old Lewis Hamilton…the young rookie, fresh from winning the GP2 Championship, has been on the development programme for a number of years. He will partner Fernando Alonso for the 2007 season-“  
  
“It was to be expected. He won the GP2 Championship. He was signed up to McLaren since he was twelve. He has matured into an excellent driver, though he could still be more careful on the corners.” His father says, changing the channel.  
  
“But Dad, that’s _McLaren_ -“ Nico begins, however, before he can finish, he’s cut off by his mobile ringing. He glances at the display. Lewis. He feels sick. He leaves the lounge and immediately answers the phone. He’s greeted by a loud din, like a large crowd shouting and screaming.  
  
“Nico? Are you there?” Lewis’s voice calms his beating heart.  
  
“I’m here, what’s up, man?” Nico tries to keep his voice steady.  
  
“Did you see the news? I’m driving for McLaren next year! I’m going to be on the grid with you!” Lewis says, excitedly.  
  
“I saw the news, congratulations Lewis.”  
  
“Are you okay, Nico?”  
  
“I am. I just can’t believe it. You’re going to be amazing.” Nico says, and he means it.  
  
He can hear the smile through the phone. “Thank you, Nico. It means a lot. Hey, I’ll call you later? I have some people to talk to.”  
  
“Sure-“ Nico begins.  
  
“Thanks, man. I love you, Nico.” Lewis says before he hangs up.  
  
Nico looks down at his phone. “I love you too.” He says quietly, putting it back in his pocket.


	20. 2007 (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis enters Formula One with a bang, Nico isn't sure how to react to this feeling, the feeling that Lewis is leaving him behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seasons is officially a year old! That's right - one year ago today, I first began this story, not knowing how important it would become in my life. This story has been with me through everything and has given me so much - it's given me friends, given me people who actually read my things, given me this two wonderful men. What better time to update with another chapter? Thank you to every single person who has read this, who has commented, who loves this fic as much as I do. This is for you.
> 
> Warnings for sex and angst. Enjoy! :)

**2007**   
  
Nico doesn’t see Lewis over the summer break but he sees him on the television, he’s all smiles, looking tiny in his new overalls, McLaren Mercedes across his chest like a brand. Nico feels the nausea rise up inside him when he watches Lewis standing next to Fernando Alonso of all people, a huge grin stretched across his face.   
  
Lewis texts him a couple of times but he doesn’t text back, he just thinks about Lewis’s smile, documented in flashes.   


* * *

  
  
He doesn’t see Lewis until the first race in Australia. They’re on the driver’s parade, he’s speaking to his teammate Alexander when he hears a round of cheers filter around the bus.   
  
“Hey, lads, it’s the new rookie!” Jenson shouts out, pulling Lewis close to him.   
  
Nico watches Jenson’s arm slide around Lewis’s waist, his hand moving to rub to Lewis’s newly buzzed hair. Lewis bites his lip, he looks slightly uncomfortable.   
  
“Leave him alone, Button. Stop scaring him.” Mark calls out, grinning widely.   
  
“Webber, stop ruining my fun!” Jenson says, winking at the Australian who blows him a kiss.   
  
Lewis’s brown eyes lock on Nico’s. He smiles at the German but Nico looks away, his eyes lock on the crowds.   


* * *

  
  
Lewis ends up coming third. Nico watches him on the screens before him, spraying champagne at Kimi and Fernando, the glee clear to see on his face. He looks implicitly younger; his overalls seem two sizes too big for him, there’s a clear child-like wonder on his face, his grin seems infectious. His face is wet with champagne. Nico feels the nausea rise up inside him as he watches Lewis carefully. He’s not supposed to be on the podium in his very first race – it’s not fair – he’s only driven in testing – Nico thinks, pushing a hand through his blonde hair. He was expecting Lewis to be in the midfield pack like himself, not out in front, pressing his car around Alonso and Massa, easily, like he’d been doing it for years. A hand claps him on the shoulder, he spins around coming face to face with his father’s blue eyes. There’s no trace of emotion in them, something Nico is used to. His father glances at the screen before them.   
  
“He did well today. It was incredible to say it was his first race.”   
  
Nico nods, he thinks about the fact that he knows his father meant to say and _why didn’t you do that_ doesn’t not leave his lips. His father’s eyes remain on the smiling Lewis, spraying Fernando with champagne. Nico bites his lip, glancing over at how happy Lewis looks. His chest twists with something, an emotion he can’t quite place.  He turns away from the screens, his hand pushing through his hair as he sticks his earphones back in. Keke watches him leave, a knowing glance on his face.   
  
Nico is so immersed in his own thoughts as he moves away from the holding area, that somebody slams into him. Wetness immediately soaks his overalls, the smell of champagne immediately fills the air.   
  
Nico raises his gaze, his blue eyes angry. “What the-“ He stops when he glances into brown eyes.   
  
" _Nico_ .” Lewis says, a smile immediately appearing on his face.   
  
Nico immediately feels a warm pair of arms envelope him, Lewis’s hair tickling his chin. The young driver smells like sweat, champagne and the familiar scent of vanilla. Nico closes his eyes, taking in the feeling of Lewis in his arms. He always said they would get to Formula One, but he just couldn’t picture Lewis in sweaty overalls, a magnum of champagne tucked under his arm.  Lewis finally pulls away, the smile still sticking to his face.   
  
“Congratulations on third, Lewis.” Nico says, he feels the smile curl on his face.   
  
“Thanks, man.” Lewis whispers, his eyes look sincere. He glances over Nico’s shoulder. He stiffens ever so slightly.   
  
“Hey, Mr Rosberg.” Lewis’s smile dims a touch.   
  
Keke moves over to the young driver, clapping him on the shoulder. Lewis glances at Nico, his eyes wide.   
  
“You did good out there, son. That was some fantastic driving in your first race. You passing Alonso on that first corner. Your dad will be proud.” Keke says, quietly.   
  
“Thanks, Mr Rosberg.” Lewis replies, nodding his head slightly. His tongue ghosts over his lips to wet them as he glances back at Nico.   
  
Nico walks away. Lewis’s laughter rings in his ears.   


* * *

  
  
Lewis comes second in Malaysia. Nico watches him stand on the podium, spraying Alonso and Kimi. He glances down at the driver’s standings. Lewis is third in the Driver’s Championship and it’s only the second race. Nico ignores the pull of nausea once more, it feels like jealousy rising up inside him. He doesn’t visit Lewis, he ignores all of his texts.   
  
Bahrain is as hot as Nico remembers. He remembers the sweat dripping down his face, he remembers the way his t-shirt clung to his back. He remembers pressing Lewis against the sheets in the hotel room, he remembers the night they shared together. He remembers brushing his lips against the tiny scar at the top of Lewis’s lips, he remembers the moan that passed Lewis’s lips when he put his mouth on him, he remembers the sweat, the heat, the warmth, the feeling of their naked bodies rubbing together. It seems like a lifetime ago. He shakes his thoughts away as he crosses the finish line in tenth position. He glances at the positioning screens.   
His blue eyes immediately fall on the second position. It’s Lewis.   
  
Nico watches the podium this time from the pit wall. It’s a little more of a complicated viewpoint but he wants to feel close to Lewis. He closes his eyes for a moment, he can almost taste the champagne. Lewis’s expression is again of wonder as he accepts his second place trophy, holding it aloft to cheers. He drinks from the champagne bottle and glances down towards the pitwall, to where his McLaren is standing, gleaming in the sunlight. Nico feels his heart stop as he suddenly notices how young Lewis looks, he looks like a lost little boy, his white McLaren overalls look enormous on him. Lewis’s eyes seem to lock with Nico’s and he pauses for a moment. He raises his champagne bottle and smiles. Nico smiles back, feeling his heart race against his ribs.   
  
  
There’s a soft knock on Nico’s door. It’s barely audible. Nico pops out his earbud and tilts his head ever so slightly. He moves over to the door, his face flickering with confusion. Lewis is standing in the hallway, teeth worrying his lips.   
  
“Lewis.” Nico’s says, his voice almost a whisper.   
  
Lewis looks different; he looks as young as he did on the podium. His racing suit is replaced by a soft looking t-shirt and jeans. He’s lost a lot of weight in the summer break and it shows. He looks tired but there’s a small smile on his face.   
  
“Hey.” Nico notices the small, dark circles under his eyes. “Can I come in?”   
  
Nico nods and allows the Brit inside.  Lewis pauses for a moment before he surges forward, pressing Nico up against the wall.   
  
“I missed you.” He whispers, pressing his lips against Nico’s.   
  
Nico feels his arms wrap around Lewis’s waist. He closes his eyes and kisses Lewis back just as hard. Lewis’s lips are chapped and rough against his own, his stubble tickles against Nico’s chin as their tongues tangle together.   
  
“I missed you too.” Nico whispers against Lewis’s lips. “I missed having you here with me.”   
  
His fingers dance along Lewis’s hips, fingering the edge of Lewis’s t-shirt. Lewis grabs his mouth away, allowing Nico to pull off the article of clothing with ease. Lewis gasps slightly as Nico’s fingers settle back on his torso, they’re cold against his bare skin. Nico smirks as his lips lock back on Lewis’s, his teeth biting down on Lewis’s lip. Lewis groans into the kiss, his fingers raking at Nico’s back. Nico steers Lewis towards the bed, pushing the slighter Brit down onto the mattress. Lewis stares back at him, hungry. His dark eyes seem black in the dim light of the hotel room. Nico climbs on top of Lewis, pressing his hands down into the mattress. He captures Lewis’s lips again, this time, he presses his tongue past Lewis’s lips. Lewis groans and kisses back with the same ferocity, his tongue wrapping against Nico’s as one of Nico’s hands drifts down Lewis’s torso, his fingernails scraping against the golden skin.   
  
Nico pulls away, eliciting a whine from Lewis as he presses gentle kisses on Lewis’s neck, his lips dancing down towards his collarbone. He presses his lips at the soft incline of Lewis’s collarbone and sucks hard. Lewis’s head falls back.   
  
“Just fuck me, Rosberg.” Lewis whispers, his eyes dark. He hisses as Nico scrapes his teeth against his skin.   
  
Nico presses a kiss to Lewis’s soft skin. “You know, who knew that the man tied on Championship points with Alonso and Raikkonen would spend his evening begging-“ Nico smirks, he’s enjoying this, he’s enjoying taking control.   
  
“Nico, _please_ .” Lewis whispers, his brown eyes lock on Nico.   
  
Nico nods and pulls his t-shirt off.   


* * *

  
  
“Hey, when will you be joining me on the podium, Rosberg?” Lewis jokes.   
  
They’re wrapped up in Nico’s bed, still naked. Lewis can feel Nico’s semen still wet against his thigh. Nico shakes his head, ignoring the stab of hurt. “When I get a car as good as yours.” He fires back.   
  
Lewis’s head is resting against his chest, it feels good. Lewis’s breath ghosts against his chest. “Can you believe it, Nico? All the times we talked about it…and we’re both here.”   
  
“I know, it’s insane.” Nico says, his hand ghosts over Lewis’s naked stomach.   
  
“Do you think we’ll ever be teammates? You could come to McLaren with me. I mean, Fernando is nice but he’s a little cold. I think he looks at me and he sees me as a kid-“   
  
“You are a kid.” Nico smirks. He presses a kiss to Lewis’s hair. He’s missed this, he’s missed them.   
  
“I’m older than you.”   
  
“Touche. Listen, stop worrying about it, we’ll get there. I wasn’t wrong about us getting to Formula One was I?” Nico’s voice is quiet.   
  
“I suppose.” Lewis replies. “I missed you, you know that? I thought for a while there that I had lost you.”   
  
“You’ll never lose me, Lewis.” The words don’t feel right in his mouth.   


* * *

  
  
Lewis comes second in Spain. He had the fastest time in FP1. Nico had bitten his lip when he heard the boos and jeers ring out from around the crowd when they announce that Lewis has set the fastest lap.  Nico feels his heart beat against his chest. He feels a strange emotion curl in his chest – something he can’t quite place – as Lewis ends up placing fourth in the qualifying.  
  
Nico feels the emotion surge up again when he watches the race afterwards, Alonso goes into the gravel and Lewis snakes past him and Raikkonen easily, braking into the first corner. He hits the first apex, of course, he does. It’s only after Nico checks the driver’s standings that he feels the nausea rise up inside him. Lewis is leading the World Championship. He’s the youngest driver to do so. Nico glances over the screen, blinking at Lewis’s name at the top. He closes his phone and lies down on his bed.   
  
His eyes are beginning to droop when he realises what the sensation in his chest was, it’s wrapping around his gut once more – it’s jealousy. He’s jealous of Lewis.  


* * *

  
  
They’re in Monaco, it’s his home Grand Prix. Nico allows the sun’s rays to brush against his face, warming his cheeks. He’s keeping his mirrored sunglasses on, glancing around the paddock. The garages are currently full of mechanics, working on everyone’s cars. Nico spots Raikkonen and Heikki standing over by the chain-link fence in deep conversation.   His eyes slide over to the McLaren garage. He wonders where Lewis is, he’d walked past it earlier but there was no sign of the Brit.  
  
However, a familiar voice drifts past.   “Look, I’m just happy to be here in Monaco…I know I’ve had some success here in Formula 3 and GP2, but this is very different. The drivers are a lot more competitive.”  
  
“How’s your relationship with Alonso?”  
  
Lewis stiffens ever so slightly. “We’re fine.”  
  
Nico watches Lewis close off completely. His eyes are hidden beneath sunglasses, his hand keeps jumping up to rub at his chin and adjust his cap. The pressure is building.   
  
Lewis ends up coming second. He and Fernando are tied on points. Nico dropped from fifth down to twelfth. He tries to ignore the look of disappointment on his father’s face.   
Lewis visits his house after the race. They make love, desperately, in Nico’s bedroom. Nico’s hand against Lewis’s mouth to stop him from crying out as Nico slams his hips up against Lewis. Lewis’s lips are like fire against his skin. Nico presses kisses all over Lewis’s body, to his face, peppering them down his face. He moves to ghost his lips over Lewis’s bare collarbone. He thinks about nothing but Lewis. He remembers talking to Lewis about them both being in Formula One, Lewis is on the podium, he is not.   
He pushes away all thoughts of racing as he comes into Lewis. The Brit slumps against him, panting. Nico smiles, brushing his lips against Lewis’s neck.  


* * *

  
Canada is beautiful, Lewis thinks as he feels the breeze ghost across his cheeks. He’s just finished an interview with Sky and he’s heading back to the pits for qualifying. He feels the tiredness seeping into his bones. It’s hard to keep on top of things; Fernando won’t talk to Lewis at the moment. Lewis pushes a hand over his face, knocking his headphones askew. He can feel the pinch of skin under his eyes, he can feel his hands shake during the press interviews, he can feel the tiredness in his bones.   
  
Somebody catches his hand gently.   He stares into blue eyes. “Are you okay?” Nico asks, worry crossing his features.  
  
“I’ll be fine.” Lewis replies. He keeps hold of Nico’s fingers for a while, they feel nice against his skin, comforting and warm.   
  
Lewis wants to keep hold of Nico’s hand.  He finally lets go of Nico’s fingers when Fernando flits past the garage. He doesn’t want to have to explain. Nico nods, his fingers brush against Lewis’s wrist before he moves back to the Williams garage.   
  
Lewis wins the race. He stands on the top podium, feeling the tears prick at his eyes. He thinks about all the people who told him that he shouldn’t race. He thinks about his father, probably somewhere below him, crying his eyes out. He thinks about Fernando at the side of him, angry, his cap pulled down over his eyes. He thinks about Keke, he wonders if he’s cheering somewhere. But he thinks mainly about Nico. He wonders if the blonde is proud of him. Nico doesn’t leave Lewis’s thoughts, even after the champagne sprayed on his face starts to dry. Lewis glances at the trophy, the trophy with his name engraved into it and smiles. He’s made it. He’s actually _made_ it.   
  
He goes to talk to Nico after the race but the blonde ignores him. Lewis feels the ache in his chest intensify.   
  
There’s a knock on his door later that night.   Nico stands in the doorway, the lights making his blonde hair shine even more than usual. He looks nervous.   
  
“Can I come in?” He asks, his voice is not confident, Lewis raises an eyebrow.   
  
“Sure.” He says, stepping aside to let the German in. Nico stands in the middle of the room, eyes downcast.  
  
Lewis sits on the side of the bed, worrying his lip. A moment of silence passes between them before Lewis breaks it – he always does, he cannot stand to be ignored, he never has.  “I missed you today. Are we okay?” He asks softly, his brown eyes are wide. “Because I feel like you’re upset with me and I’m not sure why.”  
  
“I’m not upset with you.” Nico sighs, sitting down next to Lewis on the bed.  
  
“Then why are you ignoring me? We don’t talk anymore. I miss you, Nico.”  
  
“I’m not ignoring you.” Nico pushes a hand through his hair. “I just…it’s really hard at the moment. My dad is…hard on me.”  
  
“I know, Nico. But that never used to faze you.”  
  
“I know…I’m sorry, Lew.”  
  
“If it’s because of me-“  
  
“It’s nothing to do with that…just leave it, Lewis.” Nico says, his voice quivering ever so slightly.  
  
“Then what is it?”  
  
“You’re winning _everything_ !” Nico snaps, redness flooding his cheeks the second the words leave his lips. “You’re not supposed to be winning everything…I just, you’ve just got into Formula One and you’re not supposed to be on the podium every time. But I’m happy for you because you are getting the success you deserve-“  
  
“Nico, I-“  
  
“But I hate you because you’re doing what I can’t.”  
  
“Nico, I understand you feel upset-“  
  
“How can you possibly understand how I feel? You’ve never had to work for this…you’ve always been good at it. You’ve always been better at it than me.”  
  
“I know!” Lewis yells, there’s tears in the corner of his eyes. “I’m sorry that it was supposed to be _you_ . Why can’t you just be happy for me? You used to be my biggest fan when I won-“  
  
“That was when it didn’t matter.”  
  
Lewis laughs, it’s hollow. “It didn’t matter? It mattered to you whenever I beat you. It still does. I can’t believe you. What happened to you?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Nico says dangerously.  
  
“One year in Formula One and you just change completely. The Nico I know, the Nico I l-“ He pauses. “He would never act so jealous and bitter. I’m under enough pressure as it is!”  
  
“Oh, poor you. At the top of the Championship.”  
  
“Yeah, you try getting three hours sleep every night, Nico. It’s horrible. Fernando won’t talk to me, all my dad wants to go over is race strategy. I just needed you and you just-“   
  
“Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to hold your hand!”  
  
“I never asked you to! I just needed you to support me.”  
  
“I’m not your boyfriend, Lewis!”  
  
“Thanks for clearing that up.” Lewis says, dangerously. “You’re only too happy to play my boyfriend when we’re sleeping together.”  
  
“We’re casual…that’s what we agreed. I didn’t know that me fucking you would turn you into such a whiny bitch-“ Nico regrets the words as they leave his mouth.   
  
"You know what…I don’t have to listen to this. Fuck you, Nico. Have a nice life.”  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything. He leaves Lewis’s hotel room. He stands outside the door, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. Lewis slides down onto the floor, tears streaming down his face. He glances at the trophy on the side and wonders if it’s all worth it.


End file.
